J 


^ke  cf&otide 
Sri  (jood  ^adte 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2014 


https://archive.org/details/houseingoodtasteOOdewo_0 


f^ke  §f(botides 
ins*  Qood  ladies 


Sidle  de  CWolfes 

of  lludtiated  with,  photogxaphd 
in  coloz  and  black  and  white 


^he  (oentuzy  (So, 

1914 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
The  Century  Co. 


Copyright,  1911,  1912,  by 
The  Butterick  Publishing  Co. 

Copyright,  1912,  1913,  by 
Good  Housekeeping.  Magazink 


Published,  October,  iqij 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 
I      THE     DEVELOPMENT     OF     THE  MODERN 

HOUSE  3 


II  SUITABILITY,  SIMPLICITY  AND  PROPORTION  1/ 

III  THE   OLD   WASHINGTON    IRVING   HOUSE      •  27 

IV  THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  OF  MANY  MIRRORS     •  42 
V  THE    TREATMENT   OF    WALLS       ....  52 

VI  THE   EFFECTIVE    USE   OF   COLOR                     •  71 

VII  OF  DOORS,  AND  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ     •  &4 


VIII  THE  PROBLEM  OF  ARTIFICIAL  LIGHT      •      •  109 

IX  HALLS  AND  STAIRCASES   122 

X  THE  DRAWING-ROOM   134 

XI  THE   LIVING-ROOM    W% 

XII  SITTING-ROOM  AND  BOUDOIR   159 

XIII  A  LIGHT,   GAY  DINING-ROOM   x74 

XIV  THE  BEDROOM   1 94 

XV  THE  DRESSING-ROOM  AND  THE  BATH      •      •  2I9 

XVI  THE  SMALL  APARTMENT   237 

XVII  REPRODUCTIONS   OF  ANTIQUE  FURNITURE 

AND  OBJECTS  OF  ART     ......  254 

XVIII  THE  ART  OF  TRELLIAGE   271 

XIX  VILLA   TRIANON   284 

XX  NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS   3 00 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Elsie  de  Wolfe  Frontispiece 

In  this  hall,  simplicity,  suitability  and  proportion  are  observed  .  7 

Mennoyer  drawings  and  old  mirrors  set  in  panelings  ....  14 

A  portrait  by  Nattier  inset  above  a  fine  old  mantel      ....  19 

The  Washington  Irving  house  was  delightfully  rambling      .    .  29 

A  Washington  Irving  House  bedroom   34 

Miss  Marbury's  bedroom   39 

The  forecourt  and  entrance  of  the  Fifty-fifth  Street  house    .    .  45 

A  painted  wall  broken  into  panels  by  narrow  moldings  .    .     .  57 

A  wall  paper  of  Elizabethan  design  with  oak  furniture  ...  64 

The  scheme  of  this  room  grew  from  the  jars  on  the  mantel  .    .  70 

A  Louis  Seize  bedroom  in  rose  and  blue  and  cream  ....  75 

The  writing  corner  of  a  chintz  bedroom   82 

Black  chintz  used  in  a  dressing-room   87 

Printed  linen  curtains  over  rose  colored  silk   92 

Straight  hangings  of  rose  and  yellow  shot  silk   97 

Muslin  glass  curtains  in  the  Washington  Irving  house    .    .    .  103 

Here  are  many  lighting  fixtures  harmoniously  assembled  in  a 

drawing-room  108 

Detail  of  a  fine  old  French  fixture  of  hand  wrought  metal  .  .113 

Lighting  fixtures  inspired  by  Adam  mirrors  .     .     .     „     .     .  .118 

The  staircase  in  the  Bayard  Thayer  house  127 

The  drawing-room  should  be  intimate  in  spirit  138 

The  fine  formality  of  well-placed  paneling  ,  143 

The  living-room  in  the  C.  W.  Harkness  house  at  Morristown, 

New  Jersey  149 

Miss  Anne  Morgan's  Louis  XVI  boudoir  162 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Miss  Morgan's  Louis  XVI  lit  de  repos  167 

A  Georgian  dining-room  in  the  William  Iselin  house  ....  177 

Mrs.  Ogden  Armour's  Chinese  paper  screen  184 

Mrs.  James  Warren  Lane's  painted  dining-table  184 

The  private  dining-room  in  the  Colony  Club  189 

An  old  painted  bed  of  the  Louis  XVI  period  196 

Miss  Crocker's  Louis  XVI  bed  199 

A  Colony  Club  bedroom  203 

Mauve  chintz  in  a  dull  green  room  208 

Mrs.  Frederick  Havemeyer's  Chinoserie  chintz  bed      ....  212 

Mrs.  Payne  Whitney's  green  feather  chintz  bed  212 

My  own  bedroom  is  built  around  a  Breton  bed  217 

Furniture  painted  with  chintz  designs  221 

Miss  Morgan's  Louis  XVI  dressing-room  226 

Miss  Marbury's  chintz-hung  dressing-table  231 

A  corner  of  my  own  boudoir  246 

Built-in  bookshelves  in  a  small  room  251 

Mrs.  C.  W.  Harkness's  cabinet  for  objets  d'art  256 

A  banquette  of  the  Louis  XV  period  covered  with  needlework  .  265 

A  Chinese  Chippendale  sofa  covered  with  chintz  265 

The  trellis  room  in  the  Colony  Club  270 

Mrs.  Ormond  G.  Smith's  trellis  room  at  Center  Island,  New 

York   275 

Looking  over  the  tapis  vert  to  the  trellis  282 

A  fine  old  consol  in  the  Villa  Trianon  287 

The  broad  terrace  connects  house  and  garden  292 

A  proper  writing-table  in  the  drawing-room      ......  301 

A  cream-colored  porcelain  stove  in  a  New  York  house  .     .  .314 

Mr.  James  Deering's  wall  fountain  319 

Fountain  in  the  trellis  room  of  Mrs.  Ormond  G,  Smith    ,         .  319 


THE 

HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 


THE 

HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 


i 

THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  MODERN  HOUSE 

I KNOW  of  nothing  more  significant  than  the 
awakening  of  men  and  women  throughout  our 
country  to  the  desire  to  improve  their  houses. 
Call  it  what  you  will — awakening,  development, 
American  Renaissance — it  is  a  most  startling  and  prom- 
ising condition  of  affairs. 

It  is  no  longer  possible,  even  to  people  of  only 
faintly  aesthetic  tastes,  to  buy  chairs  merely  to  sit 
upon  or  a  clock  merely  that  it  should  tell  the  time. 
Home-makers  are  determined  to  have  their  houses,  out- 
side and  in,  correct  according  to  the  best  standards. 
What  do  we  mean  by  the  best  standards?  Certainly 
not  those  of  the  useless,  overcharged  house  of  the 
average  American  millionaire,  who  builds  and  furnishes 
his  home  with  a  hopeless  disregard  of  tradition.  We 
must  accept  the  standards  that  the  artists  and  the 
architects  accept,  the  standards  that  have  come  to  us 
from  those  exceedingly  rational  people,  our  ancestors. 

Our  ancestors  built  for  stability  and  use,  and  so  their 
simple  houses  were  excellent  examples  of  architecture. 

3 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

Their  spacious,  uncrowded  interiors  were  usually  beau- 
tiful. Houses  and  furniture  fulfilled  their  uses,  and  if 
an  object  fulfils  its  mission  the  chances  are  that  it  is 
beautiful. 

It  is  all  very  well  to  plan  our  ideal  house  or  apart- 
ment, our  individual  castle  in  Spain,  but  it  is  n't  nec- 
essary to  live  among  intolerable  furnishings  just  be- 
cause we  cannot  realize  our  castle.  There  never  was 
a  house  so  bad  that  it  could  n't  be  made  over  into  some- 
thing worth  while.  We  shall  all  be  very  much  happier 
when  we  learn  to  transform  the  things  we  have  into  a 
semblance  of  our  ideal. 

How,  then,  may  we  go  about  accomplishing  our 
ideal? 

By  letting  it  go! 

By  forgetting  this  vaguely  pleasing  dream,  this  evi- 
dence of  our  smug  vanity,  and  making  ourselves  ready 
for  a  new  ideal. 

By  considering  the  body  of  material  from  which  it 
is  good  sense  to  choose  when  we  have  a  house  to  deco- 
rate. 

By  studying  the  development  of  the  modern  house, 
its  romantic  tradition  and  architectural  history. 

By  taking  upon  ourselves  the  duty  of  self-taught 
lessons  of  sincerity  and  common  sense,  and  suitability. 

By  learning  what  is  meant  by  color  and  form  and 
line,  harmony  and  contrast  and  proportion. 

When  we  are  on  familiar  terms  with  our  tools,  and 
feel  our  vague  ideas  clearing  into  definite  inspiration, 

4 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  MODERN  HOUSE 

then  we  are  ready  to  talk  about  ideals.  We  are  fit  to 
approach  the  full  art  of  home-making. 

We  take  it  for  granted  that  every  woman  is  inter- 
ested in  houses — that  she  either  has  a  house  in  course 
of  construction,  or  dreams  of  having  one,  or  has  had  a 
house  long  enough  wrong  to  wish  it  right.  And  we 
take  it  for  granted  that  this  American  home  is  always 
the  woman's  home:  a  man  may  build  and  decorate  a 
beautiful  house,  but  it  remains  for  a  woman  to  make 
a  home  of  it  for  him.  It  is  the  personality  of  the 
mistress  that  the  home  expresses.  Men  are  forever 
guests  in  our  homes,  no  matter  how  much  happiness 
they  may  find  there. 

You  will  express  yourself  in  your  house,  whether 
you  want  to  or  not,  so  you  must  make  up  your  mind  to 
a  long  preparatory  discipline.  You  may  have  only 
one  house  to  furnish  in  your  life-time,  possibly,  so  be 
careful  and  go  warily.  Therefore,  you  must  select  for 
your  architect  a  man  who  is  n't  too  determined  to  have 
his  way.  It  is  a  fearful  mistake  to  leave  the  entire 
planning  of  your  home  to  a  man  whose  social  experience 
may  be  limited,  for  instance,  for  he  can  impose  on  you 
his  conception  of  your  tastes  with  a  damning  per- 
manency and  emphasis.  I  once  heard  a  certain  Boston 
architect  say  that  he  taught  his  clients  to  be  ladies  and 
gentlemen.  He  could  n't,  you  know.  All  he  could  do 
is  to  set  the  front  door  so  that  it  would  reprove  them 
if  they  were  n't! 

Who  does  not  know,  for  instance,  those  mistaken 

5 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

people  whose  houses  represent  their  own  or  their  archi- 
tects' hasty  visits  to  the  fine  old  chateaux  of  the  Loire, 
or  the  palaces  of  Versailles,  or  the  fine  old  houses  of 
England,  or  the  gracious  villas  of  Italy*?  We  must 
avoid  such  aspiring  architects,  and  visualize  our  homes 
not  as  so  many  specially  designated  rooms  and  con- 
venient closets,  but  as  individual  expressions  of  our- 
selves, of  the  future  we  plan,  of  our  dreams  for  our 
children.  The  ideal  house  is  the  house  that  has  been 
long  planned  for,  long  awaited. 

Fortunately  for  us,  our  best  architects  are  so  very 
good  that  we  are  better  than  safe  if  we  take  our  prob- 
lems to  them.  These  men  associate  with  themselves 
the  hundred  young  architects  who  are  eager  to  prove 
themselves  on  small  houses.  The  idea  that  it  is  eco- 
nomical to  be  your  own  architect  and  trust  your  house 
to  a  building  contractor  is  a  mistaken,  and  most  ex- 
pensive, one.  The  surer  you  are  of  your  architect's 
common  sense  and  professional  ability,  the  surer  you 
may  be  that  your  house  will  be  economically  efficient. 
He  will  not  only  plan  a  house  that  will  meet  the  needs 
of  your  family,  but  he  will  give  you  inspiration  for  its 
interior.  He  will  concern  himself  with  the  moldings, 
the  light-openings,  the  door-handles  and  hinges,  the 
unconsidered  things  that  make  or  mar  your  house. 
Select  for  your  architect  a  man  you 'd  like  for  a  friend. 
Perhaps  he  will  be,  before  the  house  comes  true.  If 
you  are  both  sincere,  if  you  both  purpose  to  have  the 
best  thing  you  can  afford,  the  house  will  express  the 

6 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  MODERN  HOUSE 

genius  and  character  of  your  architect  and  the  person- 
ality and  character  of  yourself,  as  a  great  painting  sug- 
gests both  painter  and  sitter.  The  hard  won  triumph 
of  a  well-built  house  means  many  compromises,  but  the 
ultimate  satisfaction  is  worth  everything. 

I  do  not  purpose,  in  this  book,  to  go  into  the  historic 
traditions  of  architecture  and  decoration — there  are  so 
many  excellent  books  it  were  absurd  to  review  them — 
but  I  do  wish  to  trace  briefly  the  development  of  the 
modern  house,  the  woman's  house,  to  show  you  that 
all  that  is  intimate  and  charming  in  the  home  as  we 
know  it  has  come  through  the  unmeasured  influence  of 
women.  Man  conceived  the  great  house  with  its  pa- 
rade rooms,  its  grands  appartements  but  woman  found 
eternal  parade  tiresome,  and  planned  for  herself  little 
retreats,  rooms  small  enough  for  comfort  and  intimacy. 
In  short,  man  made  the  house:  woman  went  him  one 
better  and  made  of  it  a  home. 

The  virtues  of  simplicity  and  reticence  in  form  first 
came  into  being,  as  nearly  as  we  can  tell,  in  the  Grotta, 
the  little  studio-like  apartment  of  Isabella  d'Este,  the 
Marchioness  of  Mantua,  away  back  in  1496.  The 
Marchioness  made  of  this  little  studio  her  personal  re- 
treat. Here  she  brought  many  of  the  treasures  of  the 
Italian  Renaissance.  Really,  simplicity  and  reticence 
were  the  last  things  she  considered,  but  the  point  is  that 
they  were  considered  at  all  in  such  a  restless,  passionate 
age.  Later,  in  1522,  she  established  the  Paradiso,  a 
suite  of  apartments  which  she  occupied  after  her  hus- 

9 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

band's  death.  So  you  see  the  idea  of  a  woman  plan- 
ning her  own  apartment  is  pretty  old,  after  all. 

The  next  woman  who  took  a  stand  that  revealed 
genuine  social  consciousness  was  that  half-French,  half- 
Italian  woman,  Catherine  de  Vivonne,  Marquise  de 
Rambouillet.  She  seceded  from  court  because  the 
court  was  swaggering  and  hurly-burly,  with  florid 
Marie-de-Medicis  at  its  head.  And  with  this  recession, 
she  began  to  express  in  her  conduct,  her  feeling,  her 
conversation,  and,  finally,  in  her  house,  her  awakened 
consciousness  of  beauty  and  reserve,  of  simplicity  and 
suitability. 

This  was  the  early  Seventeenth  Century,  mind  you, 
when  the  main  salons  of  the  French  houses  were  filled 
with  such  institutions  as  rows  of  red  chairs  and  boxed 
state  beds.  She  undertook,  first  of  all,  to  have  a  light 
and  gracefully  curving  stairway  leading  to  her  salon 
instead  of  supplanting  it.  She  grouped  her  rooms  with 
a  lovely  diversity  of  size  and  purpose,  whereas  before 
they  had  been  vast,  stately  halls  with  cubbies  hardby 
for  sleeping.  She  gave  the  bedroom  its  alcove,  bou- 
doir, antechamber,  and  even  its  bath,  and  then  as  deco- 
rator she  supplanted  the  old  feudal  yellow  and  red 
with  her  famous  silver-blue.  She  covered  blue  chairs 
with  silver  bullion.  She  fashioned  long,  tenderly  col- 
ored curtains  of  novel  shades.  Reticence  was  always 
in  evidence,  but  it  was  the  reticence  of  elegance.  It 
was  through  Madame  de  Rambouillet  that  the  arm- 
chair received  its  final  distribution  of  yielding  parts, 

10 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  MODERN  HOUSE 

and  began  to  express  the  comfort  of  soft  padded  back- 
ward slope,  of  width  and  warmth  and  color. 

It  was  all  very  heavy,  very  grave,  very  angular,  this 
Hotel  Rambouillet,  but  it  was  devised  for  and  conse- 
crated to  conversation,  considered  a  new  form  of 
privilege!  The  precieuses  in  their  later  jargon  called 
chairs  "the  indispensables  of  conversation.5' 

I  have  been  at  some  length  to  give  a  picture  of 
Madame  de  Rambouillet's  hotel  because  it  really  is  the 
earliest  modern  house.  There,  where  the  society  that 
frequented  it  was  analyzing  its  soul  in  dialogue  and 
long  platonic  discussion  that  would  seem  stark  enough 
to  us,  the  word  which  it  invented  for  itself  was  urbanite 
— the  coinage  of  one  of  its  own  foremost  figures. 

It  is  unprofitable  to  follow  on  into  the  grandeurs  of 
Louis  XIV,  if  one  hopes  to  find  an  advance  there  in 
truth-telling  architecture.  At  the  end  of  that  splendid 
official  success  the  squalor  of  Versailles  was  unspeak- 
able, its  stenches  unbearable.  In  spite  of  its  size  the 
Palace  was  known  as  the  most  comfortless  house  in 
Europe.  After  the  death  of  its  owner  society,  in  a  fit 
of  madness,  plunged  into  the  rocaille.  When  the 
restlessness  of  Louis  XV  could  no  longer  find 
moorings  in  this  brilliancy,  there  came  into  being 
little  houses  called  folies,  garden  hermitages  for  the 
privileged.  Here  we  find  Madame  de  Pompadour  in 
calicoes,  in  a  wild  garden,  bare-foot,  playing  as  a  milk- 
maid, or  seated  in  a  little  gray-white  interior  with 
painted  wooden  furniture,  having  her  supper  on  an 

11 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

earthen-ware  service  that  has  replaced  old  silver  and 
gold.  Amorous  alcoves  lost  their  painted  Loves  and 
took  on  gray  and  white  decorations.  The  casinos  of 
little  comediennes  did  not  glitter  any  more.  Eng- 
lish sentiment  began  to  bedim  Gallic  eyes,  and  so  what 
we  know  as  the  Louis  XVI  style  was  born. 

And  so,  at  that  moment,  the  idea  of  the  modern  house 
came  into  its  own,  and  it  could  advance — as  an  idea — 
hardly  any  further.  For  with  all  the  intrepidity  and 
passion  of  the  later  Eighteenth  Century  in  its  search  for 
beauty,  for  all  the  magic-making  of  convenience  and  in' 
genuity  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  the  fundamentals 
have  changed  but  little.  And  now  we  of  the  Twentieth 
Century  can  only  add  material  comforts  and  an  expres- 
sion of  our  personality.  We  raise  the  house  beyond  the 
reach  of  squalor,  we  give  it  measured  heat,  we  give  it 
water  in  abundance  and  perfect  sanitation  and  light 
everywhere,  we  give  it  ventilation  less  successfully  than 
we  might,  and  finally  we  give  it  the  human  quality 
that  is  so  modern.  There  are  no  dungeons  in  the  good 
modern  house,  no  disgraceful  lairs  for  servants,  no  hor- 
rors of  humidity. 

And  so  we  women  have  achieved  a  house,  luminous 
with  kind  purpose  throughout.  It  is  finished — that 
is  our  difficulty !  We  inherit  it,  all  rounded  in  its  per- 
fection, consummate  in  its  charms,  but  it  is  finished,  and 
what  can  we  do  about  a  thing  that  is  finished*? 
Does  n't  it  seem  that  we  are  back  in  the  old  position  of 
Isabella   d'Este — eager,    predatory,    and  "thingy"4? 

12 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  MODERN  HOUSE 

And  is  n't  it  time  for  us  to  pull  up  short  lest  we  side- 
step the  goal  ?  We  are  so  sure  of  a  thousand  appetites 
we  are  in  danger  of  passing  by  the  amiable  common- 
places. We  find  ourselves  dismayed  in  old  houses  that 
look  too  simple.  We  must  stop  and  ask  ourselves  ques- 
tions, and,  if  necessary,  plan  for  ourselves  little  re- 
treats until  we  can  find  ourselves  again. 

What  is  the  goal  %  A  house  that  is  like  the  life  that 
goes  on  within  it,  a  house  that  gives  us  beauty  as  we 
understand  it — and  beauty  of  a  nobler  kind  that  we 
may  grow  to  understand,  a  house  that  looks  amenity. 

Suppose  you  have  obtained  this  sort  of  wisdom — a 
sane  viewpoint.  I  think  it  will  give  you  as  great  a 
satisfaction  to  re-arrange  your  house  with  what  you 
have  as  to  re-build,  re-decorate.  The  results  may  not 
be  so  charming,  but  you  can  learn  by  them.  You  can 
take  your  indiscriminate  inheritance  of  Victorian  rose- 
wood of  Eastlake  walnut  and  cocobolo,  your  pickle- 
and-plum  colored  Morris  furniture,  and  make  a  civil- 
ized interior  by  placing  it  right,  and  putting  detail 
at  the  right  points.  Your  sense  of  the  pleasure  and 
meaning  of  human  intercourse  will  be  clear  in  your  dis- 
position of  your  best  things,  in  your  elimination  of  your 
worst  ones. 

When  you  have  emptied  the  tables  of  rubbish  so  that 
you  can  put  things  down  on  them  at  need,  placed  them 
in  a  light  where  you  can  write  on  them  in  repose,  or 
isolated  real  works  of  art  in  the  middle  of  them ;  when 
you  have  set  your  dropsical  sofas  where  you  want  them 

H 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 


for  talk,  or  warmth  and  reading;  when  you  can  see  the 
fire  from  the  bed  in  your  sleeping-room,  and  dress  near 
your  bath ;  if  this  sort  of  sense  of  your  rights  is  acknowl- 
edged in  your  rearrangement,  your  rooms  will  always 
have  meaning,  in  the  end.  If  you  like  only  the  things 
in  a  chair  that  have  meaning,  and  grow  to  hate  the  rest 
you  will,  without  any  other  instruction,  prefer — the 
next  time  you  are  buying — a  good  Louis  XVI  fauteuil 
to  a  stuffed  velvet  chair.  You  will  never  again  be 
guilty  of  the  errors  of  meaningless  magnificence. 

To  most  of  us  in  America  who  must  perforce  lead 
workaday  lives,  the  absence  of  beauty  is  a  very  distinct 
lack.  I  think,  indeed,  that  the  present  awakening  has 
come  to  stay,  and  that  before  very  long,  we  shall  have 
simple  houses  with  fire-places  that  draw,  electric  lights 
in  the  proper  places,  comfortable  and  sensible  furniture, 
and  not  a  gilt-legged  spindle-shanked  table  or  chair 
anywhere.  This  may  be  a  decorator's  optimistic 
dream,  but  let  us  all  hope  that  it  may  come  true. 


16 


II 


SUITABILITY,   SIMPLICITY  AND  PROPORTION 

WHEN  I  am  asked  to  decorate  a  new  house, 
my  first  thought  is  suitability.  My  next 
thought  is  proportion.  Always  I  keep  in 
mind  the  importance  of  simplicity.  First,  I  study  the 
people  who  are  to  live  in  this  house,  and  their  needs, 
as  thoroughly  as  I  studied  my  parts  in  the  days  when 
I  was  an  actress.  For  the  time-being  I  really  am  the 
chatelaine  of  the  house.  When  I  have  thoroughly 
familiarized  myself  with  my  "part,"  I  let  that 
go  for  the  time,  and  consider  the  proportion  of  the 
house  and  its  rooms.  It  is  much  more  important  that 
the  wall  openings,  windows,  doors,  and  fireplaces 
should  be  in  the  right  place  and  should  balance  one 
another  than  that  there  should  be  expensive  and  ex- 
travagant hangings  and  carpets. 

My  first  thought  in  laying  out  a  room  is  the  placing 
of  the  electric  light  openings.  How  rarely  does  one 
find  the  lights  in  the  right  place  in  our  over-magnifi- 
cent hotels  and  residences!  One  arrives  from  a  jour- 
ney tired  out  and  travel-stained,  only  to  find  oneself 
facing  a  mirror  as  far  removed  from  the  daylight  as 
possible,  with  the  artificial  lights  directly  behind  one, 
or  high  in  the  ceiling  in  the  center  of  the  room.  In 

17 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

my  houses  I  always  see  that  each  room  shall  have  its 
lights  placed  for  the  comfort  of  its  occupants.  There 
must  be  lights  in  sheltered  corners  of  the  fireplace,  by 
the  writing-desk,  on  each  side  of  the  dressing-table, 
and  so  on. 

Then  I  consider  the  heating  of  the  room.  We 
Americans  are  slaves  to  steam  heat.  We  ruin  our 
furniture,  our  complexions,  and  our  dispositions  by 
this  enervating  atmosphere  of  too  much  heat.  In 
my  own  houses  I  have  a  fireplace  in  each  room,  and  I 
burn  wood  in  it.  There  is  a  heating-system  in  the 
basement  of  my  house,  but  it  is  under  perfect  control. 
I  prefer  the  normal  heat  of  sunshine  and  open  fires. 
But,  granted  that  open  fires  are  impossible  in  all  your 
rooms,  do  arrange  in  the  beginning  that  the  small 
rooms  of  your  house  may  not  be  overheated.  It  is 
a  distinct  irritation  to  a  person  who  loves  clean  air  to 
go  into  a  room  where  a  flood  of  steam  heat  pours  out  of 
every  corner.  There  is  usually  no  way  to  control  it 
unless  you  turn  it  off  altogether.  I  once  had  thei 
temerity  to  do  this  in  a  certain  hotel  room  where  there 
was  a  cold  and  cheerless  empty  fireplace.  I  sum- 
moned a  reluctant  chambermaid,  only  to  be  told  that 
the  chimney  had  never  had  a  fire  in  it  and  the  pro- 
prietor would  rather  not  take  such  a  risk! 

Perhaps  the  guest  in  your  house  would  not  be  so 
troublesome,  but  don't  tempt  her!  If  you  have  a 
fireplace,  see  that  it  is  in  working  order. 

We  are  sure  to  judge  a  woman  in  whose  house  we 

18 


A  PORTRAIT  BY  NATTIER  INSET  ABOVE  A  FINE  OLD  MANTEL 


I 


SUITABILITY,  SIMPLICITY,  PROPORTION 

find  ourselves  for  the  first  time,  by  her  surroundings. 
We  judge  her  temperament,  her  habits,  her  inclina- 
tions, by  the  interior  of  her  home.  We  may  talk  of 
the  weather,  but  we  are  looking  at  the  furniture.  We 
attribute  vulgar  qualities  to  those  who  are  content  to 
live  in  ugly  surroundings.  We  endow  with  refine- 
ment and  charm  the  person  who  welcomes  us  in  a  de- 
lightful room,  where  the  colors  blend  and  the  propor- 
tions are  as  perfect  as  in  a  picture.  After  all, 
what  surer  guarantee  can  there  be  of  a  woman's  charac- 
ter, natural  and  cultivated,  inherent  and  inherited,  than 
taste?  It  is  a  compass  that  never  errs.  If  a  woman 
has  taste  she  may  have  faults,  follies,  fads,  she  may 
err,  she  may  be  as  human  and  feminine  as  she  pleases, 
but  she  will  never  cause  a  scandal! 

How  can  we  develop  taste?  Some  of  us,  alas, 
can  never  develop  it,  because  we  can  never  let  go  of 
shams.  We  must  learn  to  recognize  suitability,  sim- 
plicity and  proportion,  and  apply  our  knowledge  to 
our  needs.  I  grant  you  we  may  never  fully  appreciate 
the  full  balance  of  proportion,  but  we  can  exert  our 
common  sense  and  decide  whether  a  thing  is  suitable; 
we  can  consult  our  conscience  as  to  whether  an  object 
is  simple,  and  we  can  train  our  eyes  to  recognize  good 
and  bad  proportion.  A  technical  knowledge  of  archi- 
tecture is  not  necessary  to  know  that  a  huge  stuffed 
leather  chair  in  a  tiny  gold  and  cream  room  is  unsuit- 
able, is  hideously  complicated,  and  is  as  much  out  of 
proportion  as  the  proverbial  bull  in  the  china-shop. 

21 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

A  woman's  environment  will  speak  for  her  life, 
whether  she  likes  it  or  not.  How  can  we  believe  that 
a  woman  of  sincerity  of  purpose  will  hang  fake  "works 
of  art"  on  her  walls,  or  satisfy  herself  with  imitation 
velvets  or  silks'?  How  can  we  attribute  taste  to  a 
woman  who  permits  paper  floors  and  iron  ceilings  in 
her  house?  We  are  too  afraid  of  the  restful  common- 
places, and  yet  if  we  live  simple  lives,  why  shouldn't 
we  be  glad  our  houses  are  comfortably  commonplace? 
How  much  better  to  have  plain  furniture  that  is  com- 
fortable, simple  chintzes  printed  from  old  blocks,  a 
few  good  prints,  than  all  the  sham  things  in  the  world? 
A  house  is  a  dead-give-away,  anyhow,  so  you  should 
arrange  is  so  that  the  person  who  sees  your  personality 
in  it  will  be  reassured,  not  disconcerted. 

Too  often,  here  in  America,  the  most  comfortable 
room  in  the  house  is  given  up  to  a  sort  of  bastard  col- 
lection of  gilt  chairs  and  tables,  over-elaborate  draper- 
ies shutting  out  both  light  and  air,  and  huge  and 
frightful  paintings.  This  style  of  room,  with  its 
museum-like  furnishings,  has  been  dubbed  "Marie 
Antoinette,"  why,  no  one  but  the  American  decorator 
can  say.  Heaven  knows  poor  Marie  Antoinette  had 
enough  follies  to  atone  for,  but  certainly  she  has  never 
been  treated  more  shabbily  than  when  they  dub  these 
mausoleums  "Marie  Antoinette  rooms." 

I  remember  taking  a  clever  Englishwoman  of  much 
taste  to  see  a  woman  who  was  very  proud  of  her  new 
house.    We  had  seen  most  of  the  house  when  the  host- 

22 


SUITABILITY,  SIMPLICITY,  PROPORTION 

ess,  who  had  evidently  reserved  what  she  considered  the 
best  for  the  last,  threw  open  the  doors  of  a  large  and 
gorgeous  apartment  and  said,  "This  is  my  Louis  XVI 
ballroom."  My  friend,  who  had  been  very  patient  up 
to  that  moment,  said  very  quietly,  "What  makes  you 
think  so?' 

Louis  XVI  thought  a  salon  well  furnished  with  a 
few  fine  chairs  and  a  table.  He  wished  to  be  of 
supreme  importance.  In  the  immense  salons  of  the 
Italian  palaces  there  were  a  few  benches  and  chairs. 
People  then  wished  spaces  about  them. 

Nowadays,  people  are  swamped  by  their  furniture. 
Too  many  centuries,  too  many  races,  crowd  one  an- 
other in  a  small  room.  The  owner  seems  insignificant 
among  his  collections  of  historical  furniture.  Whether 
he  collects  all  sorts  of  things  of  all  periods  in  one  heter- 
ogeneous mass,  or  whether  he  fills  his  house  with  the 
furniture  of  some  one  epoch,  he  is  not  at  home  in  his 
surroundings. 

The  furniture  of  every  epoch  records  its  history. 
Our  ancestors  of  the  Fourteenth  and  Fifteenth  Centu- 
ries inherited  the  troublous  times  of  their  fathers  in 
their  heavy  oaken  chests.  They  owned  more  chests 
than  anything  else,  because  a  chest  could  be  carried 
away  on  the  back  of  a  sturdy  pack  mule,  when  the 
necessity  arose  for  flight. 

People  never  had  time  to  sit  down  in  the  Sixteenth 
Century.  Their  feverish  unrest  is  recorded  in  their 
stiff,  backed  chairs.    It  was  not  until  the  Seventeenth 

23 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

Century  that  they  had  time  to  sit  down  and  talk.  We 
need  no  book  of  history  to  teach  us  this — we  have  only 
to  observe  the  ample  proportions  of  the  arm-chairs  of 
the  period. 

Our  ancestors  of  the  Seventeenth  and  Eighteenth 
centuries  worked  with  a  faith  in  the  permanence  of 
what  they  created.  We  have  lost  this  happy  confi- 
dence. We  are  occupied  exclusively  with  preserving 
and  reproducing.  We  have  not  succeeded  in  creating 
a  style  adapted  to  our  modern  life.  It  is  just  as  well ! 
Our  life,  with  its  haste,  its  nervousness  and  its  pre- 
occupations, does  not  inspire  the  furniture-makers. 
We  cannot  do  better  than  to  accept  the  standards  of 
other  times,  and  adapt  them  to  our  uses. 

Why  should  we  American  woman  run  after  styles 
and  periods  of  which  we  know  nothing?  Why  should 
we  not  be  content  with  the  fundamental  things?  The 
formal  French  room  is  very  delightful  in  the  proper 
place  but  when  it  is  unsuited  to  the  people  who  must 
live  in  it  it  is  as  bad  as  a  sham  room.  The  woman 
who  wears  paste  jewels  is  not  so  conspicuously  wrong 
as  the  woman  who  plasters  herself  with  too  many  real 
jewels  at  the  wrong  time! 

This  is  what  I  am  always  fighting  in  people's  houses, 
the  unsuitability  of  things.  The  foolish  woman  goes 
about  from  shop  to  shop  and  buys  as  her  fancy  directs. 
She  sees  something  "pretty"  and  buys  it,  though  it 
has  no  reference  either  in  form  or  color  to  the  scheme 
of  her  house.    Haven't  you  been  in  rooms  where  there 

24 


SUITABILITY,  SIMPLICITY,  PROPORTION 

was  a  jumble  of  mission  furniture,  satin  wood,  fine  old 
mahogany  and  gilt-legged  chairs'?  And  it  is  the  same 
with  color.  A  woman  says,  "Oh,  I  love  blue,  let's 
have  blue!"  regardless  of  the  exposure  of  her  room 
and  the  furnishings  she  has  already  collected.  And 
then  when  she  has  treated  each  one  of  her  rooms  in  a 
different  color,  and  with  a  different  floor  covering,  she 
wonders  why  she  is  always  fretted  in  going  from  one 
room  to  another. 

Don't  go  about  the  furnishing  of  your  house  with 
the  idea  that  you  must  select  the  furniture  of  some  one 
period  and  stick  to  that.  It  isn't  at  all  necessary. 
There  are  old  English  chairs  and  tables  of  the  Six- 
teenth and  Seventeenth  Centuries  that  fit  into  our  quiet, 
spacious  Twentieth  Century  country  homes.  Lines 
and  fabrics  and  woods  are  the  things  to  be  compared. 

There  are  so  many  beautiful  things  that  have  come 
to  us  from  other  times  that  it  should  be  easy  to  make 
our  homes  beautiful,  but  I  have  seen  what  I  can  best 
describe  as  apoplectic  chairs  whose  legs  were  fashioned 
like  aquatic  plants;  tables  upheld  by  tortured  naked 
women;  lighting  fixtures  in  the  form  of  tassels,  and 
such  horrors,  in  many  houses  of  to-day  under  the  guise 
of  being  "authentic  period  furniture."  Only  a  con- 
noisseur can  ever  hope  to  know  about  the  furniture  of 
every  period,  but  all  of  us  can  easily  learn  the  ear- 
marks of  the  furniture  that  is  suited  to  our  homes.  I 
shan't  talk  about  ear-marks  here,  however,  because 
dozens  of  collectors  have  compiled  excellent  books  that 

25 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

tell  you  all  about  curves  and  lines  and  grain-of-wood 
and  worm-holes.  My  business  is  to  persuade  you  to 
use  your  graceful  French  sofas  and  your  simple  rush 
bottom  New  England  chairs  in  different  rooms — in 
other  words,  to  preach  to  you  the  beauty  of  suitability. 
Suitability !    Suitability  !    SUITABILITY ! ! 

It  is  such  a  relief  to  return  to  the  tranquil,  simple 
forms  of  furniture,  and  to  decorate  our  rooms  by  a 
process  of  elimination.  How  many  rooms  have  I  not 
cleared  of  junk — this  heterogeneous  mass  of  orna- 
mental "period"  furniture  and  bric-a-brac  bought  to 
make  a  room  "look  cozy."  Once  cleared  of  these,  the 
simplicity  and  dignity  of  the  room  comes  back,  the 
architectural  spaces  are  freed  and  now  stand  in  their 
proper  relation  to  the  furniture.  In  other  words,  the 
architecture  of  the  room  becomes  its  decoration. 


26 


Ill 


THE  OLD  WASHINGTON  IRVING  HOUSE 

I HAVE  always  lived  in  enchanting  houses.  Prob- 
ably when  another  woman  would  be  dreaming 
of  love  affairs,  I  dream  of  the  delightful  houses 
I  have  lived  in.  And  just  as  the  woman  who  dreams 
of  many  lovers  finds  one  dream  a  little  dearer  than  all 
the  rest,  so  one  of  my  houses  has  been  dearer  to  me 
than  all  the  others. 

This  favorite  love  of  mine  is  the  old  Washington 
Irving  house  in  New  York,  the  quaint  mansion  that 
gave  historic  Irving  Place  its  name.  For  twenty  years 
my  friend,  Elizabeth  Marbury,  and  I  made  this  old 
house  our  home.  Two  years  ago  we  reluctantly  gave 
up  the  old  house  and  moved  into  a  more  modern  one — 
also  transformed  from  old  into  new — on  East  Fifty- 
fifth  Street.  We  have  also  a  delightful  old  house 
in  France,  the  Villa  Trianon,  at  Versailles,  where  we 
spend  our  summers.  So  you  see  we  have  had  the  rare 
experience  of  transforming  three  mistreated  old  houses 
into  very  delightful  homes. 

When  we  found  this  old  house,  so  many  years  ago, 
we  were  very  young,  and  it  is  amusing  now  to  think 
of  its  evolution.  We  had  so  many  dreams,  so  many 
theories,  and  we  tried  them  all  out  on  the  old  house. 

27 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

And  like  a  patient,  well-bred  maiden  aunt,  the  old 
house  always  accepted  our  changes  most  placidly. 
There  never  was  such  a  house ! 

You  could  do  anything  to  it,  because,  funda- 
mentally, it  was  good.  Its  wall  spaces  were  inviting, 
its  windows  were  made  for  framing  pleasant  things. 
When  we  moved  there  we  had  a  broad  sweep  of  view : 
I  can  remember  seeing  the  river  from  our  dining- 
room.  Now  the  city  has  grown  up  around  the  old 
house  and  jostled  it  rudely,  and  shut  out  much  of  its 
sunshine. 

There  is  a  joy  in  the  opportunity  of  creating  a 
beautiful  interior  for  a  new  and  up-to-date  house,  but 
best  of  all  is  the  joy  of  furnishing  an  old  house  like 
this  one.  It  is  like  reviving  an  old  garden.  It  may 
not  be  just  your  idea  of  a  garden  to  begin  with,  but  as 
you  study  it  and  deck  its  barren  spaces  with  masses  of 
color,  and  fit  a  sundial  into  the  spot  that  so  needs  it, 
and  give  the  sunshine  a  fountain  to  play  with,  you 
love  the  old  garden  just  a  little  more  every  time  you 
touch  it,  until  it  becomes  to  you  the  most  beautiful 
garden  in  all  the  world. 

Gardens  and  houses  are  such  whimsical  things! 
This  old  house  of  ours  had  been  so  long  mistreated 
that  it  was  fairly  petulant  and  querulous  when  I  began 
studying  it.  It  asked  questions  on  every  turn,  and 
seemed  surprised  when  they  were  answered.  The 
house  was  delightfully  rambling,  with  a  tiny  entrance 
hall,  and  narrow  stairs,  and  sudden  up  and  down  steps 

28 


THE  OLD  WASHINGTON  IRVING  HOUSE 

from  one  room  to  another  like  the  old,  old  house  one 
associates  with  far-away  places  and  old  times. 

The  little  entrance  hall  was  worse  than  a  question, 
it  was  a  problem,  but  I  finally  solved  it.  The  floor 
was  paved  with  little  hexagon-shaped  tiles  of  a  won- 
derful old  red.  A  door  made  of  little  square  panes 
of  mirrors  was  placed  where  it  would  deceive  the  old 
hall  into  thinking  itself  a  spacious  thing.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  a  green-and-white-stripe  wall-paper 
that  looked  as  old  as  Rip  Van  Winkle.  This  is  the 
same  ribbon-grass  paper  that  I  afterward  used  in  the 
Colony  Club  hallway.  The  woodwork  was  painted 
a  soft  gray-green.  Finally,  I  had  my  collection  of 
faded  French  costume  prints  set  flat  against  the  top  of 
the  wall  as  a  frieze.  The  hall  was  so  very  narrow 
that  as  you  went  up  stairs  you  could  actually  examine 
the  old  prints  in  detail.  Another  little  thing:  I 
covered  the  handrail  of  the  stairs  with  a  soft  gray- 
green  velvet  of  the  same  tone  as  the  woodwork,  and  the 
effect  was  so  very  good  and  the  touch  of  it  so  very  nice 
that  many  of  my  friends  straightway  adopted  the  idea. 

But  I  am  placing  the  cart  before  the  horse!  I 
should  talk  of  the  shell  of  the  house  before  the  con- 
tents, should  n't  I?  It  is  hard  to  talk  of  this  particular 
house  as  a  thing  apart  from  its  furnishings,  however, 
for  every  bit  of  paneling,  every  lighting-fixture,  the 
placing  of  each  mirror,  was  worked  out  so  that  the 
shell  of  the  house  and  its  furnishings  might  be  in  per- 
fect harmony. 

31 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

The  drawing-room  and  dining-room  occupied  the 
first  floor  of  the  house.  The  drawing-room  was  a 
long,  narrow  room  with  cream  woodwork  and  walls. 
The  walls  were  broken  into  panels  by  the  use  of  a 
narrow  molding.  In  the  large  panel  above  the  mantel- 
shelf I  had  inset  a  painting  by  Nattier.  You  will  see 
the  same  painting  used  in  the  Fifty-fifth  Street  house 
drawing-room,  in  another  illustration. 

The  color  scheme  of  rose  and  cream  and  dull  yellow 
was  worked  out  from  the  rose  and  yellow  Persian  rug. 
Most  of  the  furniture  we  found  in  France,  but  it  fitted 
perfectly  into  this  aristocratic  and  dignified  room. 
Miss  Marbury  and  I  have  a  perfect  right  to  French 
things  in  our  drawing-room,  you  see,  for  we  are  French 
residents  for  half  the  year.  And,  besides,  this  gracious 
old  house  welcomed  a  fine  old  Louis  XIV  sofa  as 
serenely  as  you  please.  I  have  no  idea  of  swallowing 
my  words  about  unsuitability ! 

Light,  air  and  comfort — these  three  things  I  must 
always  have  in  a  room,  whether  it  be  drawing-room 
or  servant's  room.  This  room  had  all  three.  The 
chairs  were  all  comfortable,  the  lights  well  placed, 
and  there  was  plenty  of  sunshine  and  air.  The  color 
of  the  room  was  so  subdued  that  it  was  restful  to  the 
eye — one  color  faded  into  another  so  subtly  that  one 
did  not  realize  there  was  a  definite  color-scheme.  The 
hangings  of  the  room  were  of  a  deep  rose  color.  I 
used  the  same  colors  in  the  coverings  of  the  chairs  and 
sofas.    The  house  was  curtained  throughout  with  fine 

32 


2 
o 
o 


w 

to 
O 


> 

S3 
O 
H 
O 
g 

3 

en 
< 


THE  OLD  WASHINGTON  IRVING  HOUSE 


white  muslin  curtains.  No  matter  what  the  inner  cur- 
tains of  a  room  may  be,  I  use  this  simple  stuff  against 
the  window  itself.  There  is  n't  any  nicer  material. 
To  me  there  is  something  unsuitable  in  an  array  of 
lace  against  a  window,  like  underclothes  hung  up  to 
dry. 

The  most  delightful  part  of  the  drawing-room  was 
the  little  conservatory,  which  was  a  plain,  lamentable 
bay-window  once  upon  a  time.  I  determined  to  make 
a  little  flower-box  of  it,  and  had  the  floor  of  it  paved 
with  large  tiles,  and  between  the  hardwood  floor  of  the 
drawing-room  and  the  marble  of  the  window  space 
was  a  narrow  curb  of  marble,  which  made  it  possible 
to  have  a  jolly  little  fountain  in  the  window.  The 
fountain  splashed  away  to  its  heart's  content,  for  there 
was  a  drain  pipe  under  the  curb.  At  the  top  of  the 
windows  there  were  shallow  white  boxes  rilled  with 
trailing  ivy  that  hung  down  and  screened  the  glass, 
making  the  window  as  delightful  to  the  passer-by  with- 
out as  to  us  within.  There  were  several  pots  of  rose- 
colored  flowers  standing  in  a  prim  row  on  the  marble 
curb. 

You  see  how  much  simpler  it  is  to  make  the  best  of 
an  old  bay  window  than  to  build  on  a  new  conserva- 
tory. There  are  thousands  of  houses  with  windows 
like  this  one  of  ours,  an  unfortunate  space  of  which  no 
use  is  made.  Sometimes  there  is  a  gilt  table  bearing 
a  lofty  jar,  sometimes  a  timid  effort  at  comfort— a  sofa 
— but  usually  the  bay  window  is  sacred  to  its  own 

35 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

devices,  whatever  they  may  be !  Why  not  spend  a  few 
dollars  and  make  it  the  most  interesting  part  of  the 
room  by  giving  it  a  lot  of  vines  and  flowers  and  a 
small  fountain"?  It  isn't  at  all  an  expensive  thing 
to  do. 

From  the  drawing-room  you  entered  the  dining- 
room.  This  was  a  long  room  with  beautifully  spaced 
walls,  a  high  ceiling,  and  quaint  cupboards.  The  ar- 
rangement of  the  mirrors  around  the  cupboards  and 
doors  was  unusual  and  most  decorative.  This  room 
was  so  beautiful  in  itself  that  I  used  very  little  color 
— but  such  color!  We  never  tired  of  the  gray  and 
white  and  ivory  color-scheme,  the  quiet  atmosphere  that 
made  glorious  the  old  Chinese  carpet,  with  its  rose- 
colored  ground  and  blue-and-gold  medallions  and 
border.  The  large  India-ink  sketches  set  in  the  walls 
are  originals  by  Mennoyer,  the  delightful  Eighteenth 
Century  artist  who  did  the  overdoors  of  the  Petit 
Trianon. 

The  mirror-framed  lighting  fixtures  I  brought  over 
from  France.  The  dining-table  too,  was  French,  of  a 
creamy  ivory-painted  wood.  The  chairs  had  insets  of 
cane  of  a  deeper  tone.  The  recessed  window-seat  was 
covered  with  a  soft  velvet  of  a  deep  yellow,  and  there 
were  as  many  little  footstools  beside  the  window-seat 
as  there  were  chairs  in  the  room.  Doesn't  everyone 
long  for  a  footstool  at  tabled 

I  believe  that  everything  in  one's  house  should  be 
comfortable,  but  one's  bedroom  must  be  more  than 

36 


THE  OLD  WASHINGTON  IRVING  HOUSE 

comfortable :  it  must  be  intimate,  personal,  one's  secret 
garden,  so  to  speak.  It  may  be  as  simple  as  a  convent 
cell  and  still  have  this  quality  of  the  personality  of  its 
occupant. 

There  are  two  things  that  are  as  important  to  me  as 
the  bed  in  the  bedrooms  that  I  furnish,  and  they  are 
the  little  tables  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  the  loung- 
ing chairs.  The  little  table  must  hold  a  good  reading 
light,  well  shaded,  for  who  does  n't  like  to  read  in  bed4? 
There  must  also  be  a  clock,  and  there  really  should 
be  a  telephone.  And  the  chaise-longue,  or  couch,  as 
the  case  may  be,  should  be  both  comfortable  and  beau- 
tiful. Who  has  n't  longed  for  a  comfortable  place  to 
snatch  forty  winks  at  midday? 

My  own  bedroom  in  this  house  was  very  pleasant  to 
me.  The  house  was  very  small,  you  see,  and  my  bed- 
room had  to  be  my  writing-  and  reading-room  too,  so 
that  accounts  for  the  bookshelves  that  fill  the  wall 
space  above  and  around  the  mantel  and  the  large  writ- 
ing-table. The  room  was  built  around  a  wonderful  old 
French  bed  which  came  from  Brittany.  This  old  bed 
is  of  carved  mahogany,  with  mirrored  panels  on  the 
side  against  the  wall,  and  with  tall  columns  at  the 
ends.  It  is  always  hung  with  embroidered  silk  in  the 
rose  color  that  I  adore  and  has  any  number  of  pillows, 
big  and  little.  The  chaise-longue  was  covered  with 
this  same  silk,  as  were  the  various  chair  cushions. 
The  other  furnishings  were  in  keeping.  It  was  a 
delightfully  comfortable  room,  and  it  grew  a  little  at 

37 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

a  time.  I  needed  bookshelves,  and  I  built  them.  A 
drop-light  was  necessary,  and  I  found  the  old  brass 
lantern  which  hung  from  the  ceiling.  And  so  it  was 
furnished,  bit  by  bit,  need  by  need. 

Miss  Marbury's  bedroom  in  this  house  was  entirely 
different  in  type,  but  exactly  the  same  in  comfort. 
The  furniture  was  of  white  enamel,  the  walls  ivory 
white,  and  the  rug  a  soft  dull  blue.  The  chintz  used 
was  the  familiar  Bird  of  Paradise,  gorgeous  in  design, 
but  so  subdued  in  tone  that  one  never  tires  of  it.  The 
bed  had  a  flat,  perfectly  fitted  cover  of  the  chintz, 
which  is  tucked  under  the  mattress.  The  box  spring 
was  also  covered  with  the  chintz,  and  the  effect  was 
always  tidy  and  satisfactory.  This  is  the  neatest  dis- 
posal of  the  bed-clothes  I  have  seen.  I  always  advise 
this  arrangement. 

Besides  the  bed  there  was  the  necessary  little  table, 
holding  a  reading-light  and  so  forth,  and  at  the  head 
of  the  bed  a  most  adorable  screen  of  white  enamel, 
paneled  with  chintz  below  and  glass  above.  There 
was  a  soft  couch  of  generous  width  in  this  room,  with 
covers  and  cushions  of  the  chintz. 

Over  near  the  windows  was  the  dressing-table  with 
the  lighting-fixtures  properly  placed.  This  table,  hung 
with  chintz,  had  a  sheet  of  plate  glass  exactly  fitting 
its  top.  The  writing-table,  near  the  window  is  also 
part  of  my  creed  of  comfort.  There  should  be  a  writ- 
ing-table in  every  bedroom.  My  friends  laugh  at  the 
little  fat  pincushions  on  my  writing-tables,  but  when 

38 


THE  OLD  WASHINGTON  IRVING  HOUSE 

they  are  covered  with  a  bit  of  the  chintz  or  tapestry 
or  brocade  of  the  room  they  are  very  pretty,  and  I  am 
sure  pins  are  as  necessary  on  the  writing-table  as  on  the 
dressing-table. 

Another  thing  I  like  on  every  writing-table  is  a  clear 
glass  bowl  of  dried  rose  petals,  which  gives  the  room 
the  faintest  spicy  fragrance.  There  is  also  a  little 
bowl  of  just  the  proper  color  to  hold  pens  and  clips 
and  odds  and  ends.  I  get  as  much  pleasure  from 
planning  these  small  details  as  from  the  planning  of 
the  larger  furniture  of  the  room. 

The  house  was  very  simple,  you  see,  and  very  small, 
and  so  when  the  time  came  to  leave  it  we  had  grown 
to  love  every  inch  of  it.  You  can  love  a  small  house 
so  completely!  But  we  couldn't  forgive  the  sky- 
scrapers encroaching  on  our  supply  of  sunshine,  and  we 
really  needed  more  room,  and  so  we  said  good-by  to 
our  beloved  old  house  and  moved  into  a  new  one. 
Now  we  find  ourselves  in  danger  of  loving  the  new  one 
as  much  as  the  old.    But  that  is  another  story. 


41 


IV 


THE   LITTLE  HOUSE  OF   MANY  MIRRORS 

ONE  walks  the  streets  of  New  York  and  receives 
the  fantastic  impression  that  some  giant  archi- 
tect has  made  for  the  city  thousands  of  houses 
in  replica.  These  dismal  brownstone  buildings  are 
so  like  without,  and  alas !  so  like  within,  that  one  won- 
ders how  their  owners  know  their  homes  from  one 
another.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  making  over 
many  of  these  gloomy  barracks  into  homes  for  other 
people,  and  when  we  left  the  old  Irving  Place  house 
we  took  one  of  these  dreary  houses  for  ourselves,  and 
made  it  over  into  a  semblance  of  what  a  city  house 
should  be. 

You  know  the  kind  of  house — there  are  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  them — a  four  story  and  basement  house  of 
pinkish  brownstone,  with  a  long  flight  of  ugly  stairs 
from  the  street  to  the  first  floor.  The  common  belief 
that  all  city  houses  of  this  type  must  be  dark  and  dreary 
just  because  they  always  have  been  dark  and  dreary  is 
an  unnecessary  superstition. 

My  object  in  taking  this  house  was  twofold:  I 
wanted  to  prove  to  my  friends  that  it  was  possible  to 
take  one  of  the  darkest  and  grimiest  of  city  houses  and 
make  it  an  abode  of  sunshine  and  light,  and  I  wanted 

42 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  OF  MANY  MIRRORS 

to  furnish  the  whole  house  exactly  as  I  pleased — for 
once! 

The  remaking  of  the  house  was  very  interesting.  I 
tore  away  the  ugly  stone  steps  and  centered  the  en- 
trance door  in  a  little  stone-paved  fore-court  on  the 
level  of  the  old  area-way.  The  fore-court  is  just  a 
step  below  the  street  level,  giving  you  a  pleasant  feel- 
ing of  invitation.  Everyone  hates  to  climb  into  a 
house,  but  there  is  a  subtle  allure  in  a  garden  or  a  court 
yard  or  a  room  into  which  you  must  step  down.  The 
fore-court  is  enclosed  with  a  high  iron  railing  banked 
with  formal  box-trees.  Above  the  huge  green  entrance 
door  there  is  a  graceful  iron  balcony,  filled  with  green 
things,  that  pulls  the  great  door  and  the  central  win- 
dow of  the  floor  above  into  an  impressive  composition. 
The  facade  of  the  house,  instead  of  being  a  common- 
place rectangle  of  stone  broken  by  windows,  has  this 
long  connected  break  of  the  door  and  balcony  and 
window.  By  such  simple  devices  are  happy  results 
accomplished ! 

The  door  itself  is  noteworthy,  with  its  great  bronze 
knob  set  squarely  in  the  center.  On  each  side  of  it 
there  are  the  low  windows  of  the  entrance  hall,  with 
window-boxes  of  evergreens.  Compare  this  orderly  ar- 
rangement of  windows  and  entrance  door  with  the 
badly  balanced  houses  of  the  old  type,  and  you  will 
realize  anew  the  value  of  balance  and  proportion. 

From  the  fore-court  you  enter  the  hall.  Once  within 
the  hall,  the  house  widens  magically.    Surely  this  cool 

43 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

black  and  white  apartment  cannot  be  a  part  of  restless 
New  York!  Have  you  ever  come  suddenly  upon  an 
old  Southern  house,  and  thrilled  at  the  classic  purity 
of  white  columns  in  a  black-green  forest*?  This  en- 
trance hall  gives  you  the  same  thrill;  the  elements  of 
formality,  of  tranquillity,  of  coolness,  are  so  evident. 
The  walls  and  ceiling  are  a  deep,  flat  cream,  and  the 
floor  is  laid  in  large  black  and  white  marble  tiles. 
Exactly  opposite  you  as  you  enter,  there  is  a  wall 
fountain  with  a  background  of  mirrors.  The  water 
spills  over  from  the  fountain  into  ferns  and  flowers 
banked  within  a  marble  curb.  The  two  wall  spaces 
on  your  right  and  left  are  broken  by  graceful  niches 
which  hold  old  statues.  An  oval  Chinese  rug  and 
the  white  and  orange  flowers  of  the  fountain  furnish 
the  necessary  color.  The  windows  flanking  the  en- 
trance doorway  are  hung  with  flat  curtains  of  coarse 
white  linen,  with  inserts  of  old  filet  lace,  and  there 
are  side  curtains  of  dead  black  silk  with  borderings  of 
silver  and  gold  threads. 

In  any  house  that  I  have  anything  to  do  with,  there 
is  some  sort  of  desk  or  table  for  writing  in  the  hall. 
How  often  I  have  been  in  other  people's  houses  when 
it  was  necessary  to  send  a  message,  or  to  record  an  ad- 
dress, when  the  whole  household  began  scurrying 
around  trying  to  find  a  pencil  and  paper!  This,  to 
my  mind,  is  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  an  in- 
ward— and  fundamental !— lack  of  order. 

In  this  hall  there  is  a  charming  desk  particularly 

44 


THE  FORECOURT  AND  ENTRANCE  OF  THE  FIFTY-FIFTH  STREET  HOUSE 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  OF  MANY  MIRRORS 

adapted  to  its  place.  It  is  a  standing  desk  which  can 
be  lowered  or  heightened  at  will,  so  that  one  who 
wishes  to  scribble  a  line  or  so  may  use  it  without 
sitting  down.  This  desk  is  called  a  bureau  d? architect. 
I  found  it  in  Biarritz.  It  would  be  quite  easy  to  have 
one  made  by  a  good  cabinet-maker,  for  the  lines  and 
method  of  construction  are  simple.  My  hall  desk  is 
so  placed  that  it  is  lighted  by  the  window  by  day 
and  the  wall  lights  by  night,  but  it  might  be  lighted 
by  two  tall  candlesticks  if  a  wall  light  were  not  avail- 
able. There  is  a  shallow  drawer  which  contains  sur- 
plus writing  materials,  but  the  only  things  permitted 
on  the  writing  surface  of  the  desk  are  the  tray  for 
cards,  the  pad  and  pencils. 

The  only  other  furniture  in  the  hall  is  an  old  porter's 
chair  near  the  door,  a  chair  that  suggests  the  sedan  of 
old  France,  but  serves  its  purpose  admirably. 

A  glass  door  leads  to  the  inner  hall  and  the  stair- 
way, which  I  consider  the  best  thing  in  the  house. 
Instead  of  the  usual  steep  and  gloomy  stairs  with 
which  we  are  all  familiar,  here  is  a  graceful  spiral  stair- 
way which  runs  from  this  floor  to  the  roof.  The  stair 
hall  has  two  walls  made  up  of  mirrors  in  the  French 
fashion,  that  is,  cut  in  squares  and  held  in  place  by 
small  rosettes  of  gilt,  and  these  mirrored  walls  seem- 
ingly double  the  spaciousness  of  what  would  be,  under 
ordinary  conditions,  a  gloomy  inside  hallway. 

The  house  is  narrow  in  the  extreme,  and  the  secret 
of  its  successful  renaissance  is  plenty  of  windows  and 

47 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

light  color  and  mirrors — mirrors — mirrors!  It  has 
been  called  the  "Little  House  of  Many  Mirrors,"  for 
so  much,  of  its  spaciousness  and  charm  is  the  effect  of 
skilfully  managed  reflections.  The  stair-landings  are 
most  ingeniously  planned.  There  are  landings  that 
lead  directly  from  the  stairs  into  the  rooms  of  each 
floor,  and  back  of  one  of  the  mirrored  stair  walls  there 
is  a  little  balcony  connecting  the  rooms  on  that  floor, 
a  private  passageway. 

The  drawing-room  and  dining-room  occupy  the  first 
floor.  The  drawing-room  is  a  pleasant,  friendly  place, 
full  of  quiet  color.  The  walls  are  a  deep  cream  color 
and  the  floor  is  covered  with  a  beautiful  Savonnerie 
rug.  There  are  many  beautiful  old  chairs  covered 
with  Aubusson  tapestry,  and  other  chairs  and  sofas 
covered  with  rose  colored  brocade.  This  drawing- 
room  is  seemingly  a  huge  place,  this  effect  being  given 
by  the  careful  placing  of  mirrors  and  lights,  and  the 
skilful  arrangement  of  the  furniture.  I  believe  in 
plenty  of  optimism  and  white  paint,  comfortable 
chairs  with  lights  beside  them,  open  fires  on  the  hearth 
and  flowers  wherever  they  "belong,"  mirrors  and  sun- 
shine in  all  rooms. 

But  I  think  we  can  carry  the  white  paint  idea  too 
far:  I  have  grown  a  little  tired  of  over-careful  dec- 
orations, of  plain  white  walls  and  white  woodwork,  of 
carefully  matched  furniture  and  over-cautious  color- 
schemes.  Somehow  the  feeling  of  homey-ness  is  lost 
when  the  decorator  is  too  careful.    In  this  drawing- 

48 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  OF  MANY  MIRRORS 

room  there  is  furniture  of  many  woods,  there  are  stuffs 
of  many  weaves,  there  are  candles  and  chandeliers 
and  reading-lamps,  but  there  is  harmony  of  purpose 
and  therefore  harmony  of  effect.  The  room  was  made 
for  conversation,  for  hospitality. 

A  narrow  landing  connects  the  dining-room  and 
the  drawing-room.  The  color  of  the  dining-room  has 
grown  of  itself,  from  the  superb  Chinese  rug  on  the 
floor  and  the  rare  old  Mennoyer  drawings  inset  in  the 
walls.  The  woodwork  and  walls  have  been  painted 
a  soft  dove-like  gray.  The  walls  are  broken  into 
panels  by  a  narrow  gray  molding,  and  the  Mennoyers 
are  set  in  five  of  these  panels.  In  one  narrow  panel 
a  beautiful  wall  clock  has  been  placed.  Above  the 
mantel  there  is  a  huge  mirror  with  a  panel  in  black 
and  white  relief  above  it.  On  the  opposite 
wall  there  is  another  mirror,  with  a  console  table  of 
carved  wood  painted  gray  beneath  it.  There  is  also  a 
console  table  under  one  of  the  Mennoyers. 

The  two  windows  in  this  room  are  obviously  win- 
dows by  day,  but  at  night  two  sliding  doors  of  mirrors 
are  drawn,  just  as  a  curtain  would  be  drawn,  to  fill  the 
window  spaces.  This  is  a  little  bit  tricky,  I  admit, 
but  it  is  a  very  good  trick.  The  dining-table  is  of 
carved  wood  painted  gray  and  covered  with  yellow 
damask,  which  in  turn  is  covered  with  a  sheet  of  plate 
glass.  The  chairs  are  covered  with  a  blue  and  gold 
striped  velvet.  The  rug  has  a  gold  ground  with  me- 
dallions and  border  of  blue,  ivory  and  rose.    Near  the 

49 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

door  that  leads  to  the  service  rooms  there  is  a  huge 
screen  made  of  one  piece  of  wondrous  tapestry.  No 
other  furniture  is  needed  in  the  room. 

The  third  floor  is  given  over  to  my  sitting-room, 
bedroom,  dressing-room,  and  so  forth,  and  the  fourth 
floor  to  Miss  Marbury's  apartments.  These  rooms  will 
be  discussed  in  other  chapters. 

The  servants'  quarters  in  this  house  are  very  well 
planned.  In  the  back  yard  that  always  goes  with  a 
house  of  this  type  I  had  built  a  new  wing,  five  stories 
high,  connected  with  the  floors  of  the  house  proper  by 
window-lined  passages.  On  the  dining-room  floor  the 
passage  becomes  a  butler's  pantry.  On  the  bedroom 
floors  the  passages  are  large  enough  for  dressing-rooms 
and  baths,  connecting  with  the  bedrooms,  and  for  outer 
halls  and  laundries  connecting  with  the  maids'  rooms 
and  the  back  stairs.  In  this  way,  you  see,  the  maids  can 
reach  the  dressing-rooms  without  invading  the  bed- 
rooms. The  kitchen  and  its  dependencies  occupy  the 
first  floor  of  the  new  wing,  the  servants'  bedrooms  the 
next  three  floors,  and  the  top  floor  is  made  up  of 
clothes  closets,  sewing-rooms,  store  rooms,  etc. 

I  firmly  believe  that  the  whole  question  of  house- 
hold comfort  evolves  from  the  careful  planning  of  the 
service  portion  of  the  house.  My  servants'  rooms  are 
all  attractive.  The  woodwork  of  these  rooms  is  white, 
the  walls  are  cream,  the  floors  are  waxed.  They  are 
all  gay  and  sweet  and  cheerful,  with  white  painted 
beds  and  chests  of  drawers  and  willow  chairs,  and 

50 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  OF  MANY  MIRRORS 


chintz  curtains  and  bed-coverings  that  are  especially 
chosen,  not  handed  down  when  they  have  become 
too  faded  to  be  used  elsewhere! 


V 


THE  TREATMENT  OF  WALLS 

SURELY  the  first  considerations  of  the  house  in 
good  taste  must  be  light,  air  and  sanitation. 
Instead  of  ignoring  the  relation  of  sanitary  con- 
ditions and  decorative  schemes,  the  architect  and  client 
of  to-day  work  out  these  problems  with  excellent  re- 
sults. Practical  needs  are  considered  just  as  worthy 
of  the  architect  as  artistic  achievements.  He  is  a  poor 
excuse  for  his  profession  if  he  cannot  solve  the  problems 
of  utility  and  beauty,  and  work  out  the  ultimate  har- 
mony of  the  house-to-be. 

If  one  enters  a  room  in  which  true  proportion  has 
been  observed,  where  the  openings,  the  doors,  windows 
and  fireplace,  balance  perfectly,  where  the  wall  spaces 
are  well  planned  and  the  height  of  the  ceiling  is  in  keep- 
ing with  the  floor-space,  one  is  immediately  convinced 
that  here  is  a  beautiful  and  satisfactory  room,  before 
a  stick  of  furniture  has  been  placed  in  it.  All  ques- 
tions pertaining  to  the  practical  equipment  and  the 
decorative  amenities  of  the  house  should  be  approached 
architecturally.  If  this  is  done,  the  result  cannot  fail 
to  be  felicitous,  and  our  dream  of  our  house  beautiful 
comes  true ! 

Before  you  begin  the  decoration  of  your  walls,  be 

52 


THE  TREATMENT  OF  WALLS 

sure  that  your  floors  have  been  finished  to  fulfil  their 
purposes.  Stain  them  or  polish  them  to  a  soft  glow, 
keep  them  low  in  tone  so  that  they  may  be  back- 
grounds. We  will  assume  that  the  woodwork  of  each 
room  has  been  finished  with  a  view  to  the  future  use  and 
decoration  of  the  room.  We  will  assume  that  the 
ceilings  are  proper  ceilings ;  that  they  will  stay  in  their 
place,  i.  e.,  the  top  of  the  room.  This  is  a  most  dar- 
ing assumption,  because  there  are  so  many  feeble  and 
threatening  ceilings  overhanging  most  of  us  that  good 
ones  seem  rare.  But  the  ceiling  is  an  architectural 
problem,  and  you  must  consider  it  in  the  beginning  of 
things.  It  may  be  beamed  and  have  every  evidence  of 
structural  beauty  and  strength,  or  it  may  be  beamed  in 
a  ridiculous  fashion  that  advertises  the  beams  as 
shams,  leading  from  nowhere  to  nowhere.  It  may  be 
a  beautiful  expanse  of  creamy  modeled  plaster  resting 
on  a  distinguished  cornice,  or  it  may  be  one  of  those 
ghastly  skim-milk  ceilings  with  distorted  cupids  and 
roses  in  relief.  It  may  be  a  rectangle  of  plain  plaster 
tinted  cream  or  pale  yellow  or  gray,  and  keeping  its 
place  serenely,  or  it  may  be  a  villainous  stretch  of  ox- 
blood,  hanging  over  your  head  like  the  curse  of  Cain. 

There  are  hundreds  of  magnificent  painted  ceilings, 
and  vaulted  arches  of  marble  and  gold,  but  these  are 
not  of  immediate  importance  to  the  woman  who  is 
furnishing  a  small  house,  and  are  not  within  the  scope 
of  this  book.  So  let  us  exercise  common  sense  and 
face  our  especial  ceiling  problem  in  an  architectural 

53 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

spirit.  If  your  house  has  structural  beams,  leave 
them  exposed,  if  you  like,  but  treat  them  as  beams; 
stain  them,  and  wax  them,  and  color  the  spaces  be- 
tween them  cream  or  tan  or  warm  gray,  and  then  make 
the  room  beneath  the  beams  strong  enough  in  color  and 
furnishings  to  carry  the  impressive  ceiling. 

If  you  have  an  architect  who  is  also  a  decorator, 
and  he  has  ideas  for  a  modeled  plaster  ceiling,  or  a 
ceiling  with  plaster-covered  beams  and  cornice  and  a 
fine  application  of  ornament,  let  him  do  his  best  for  you, 
but  remember  that  a  fine  ceiling  demands  certain  things 
of  the  room  it  covers.  If  you  have  a  simple  little 
house  with  simple  furnishings,  be  content  to  have  your 
ceilings  tinted  a  warm  cream,  keep  them  always  clean. 

When  all  these  things  are  settled — floors  and  ceil- 
ings and  woodwork — you  may  begin  to  plan  your  wall 
coverings.  Begin,  you  understand.  You  will  prob- 
ably change  your  plans  a  dozen  times  before  you  make 
the  final  decisions.  I  hope  you  will!  Because  in- 
evitably the  last  opinion  is  best— it  grows  out  of  so 
many  considerations. 

The  main  thing  to  remember,  when  you  begin  to 
cover  your  walls,  is  that  they  are  walls,  that  they  are 
straight  up  and  down,  and  have  breadth  and  thickness, 
that  they  are  supposedly  strong,  in  other  words,  that 
they  are  a  structural  part  of  your  house.  A  wall 
should  always  be  treated  as  a  flat  surface  and  in  a 
conventional  way.  Pictorial  flowers  and  lifelike 
figures  have  no  place  upon  it,  but  conventionalized  de- 

54 


THE  TREATMENT  OF  WALLS 

signs  may  be  used  successfully — witness  the  delighted 
use  of  the  fantastic  landscape  papers  in  the  middle  of 
the  Eighteenth  Century.  Walls  should  always  be  ob- 
viously walls,  and  not  flimsy  partitions  hung  with  gauds 
and  trophies.  The  wall  is  the  background  of  the  room, 
and  so  must  be  flat  in  treatment  and  reposeful  in  tone. 

Walls  have  always  offered  tempting  spaces  for  dec- 
oration. Our  ancestors  hung  their  walls  with  tro- 
phies. Our  pioneer  of  to-day  may  live  in  an  adobe 
hut,  but  he  hangs  his  walls  with  things  that  suggest 
beauty  and  color  to  him,  calendars,  and  trophies  and 
gaudy  chromos.  The  rest  of  his  hut  he  uses  for  the 
hard  business  of  living,  but  his  walls  are  his  theater,  his 
literature,  his  recreation.  The  wolf  skin  will  one  day 
give  place  to  a  painting  of  the  chase,  the  gaudy  calen- 
dars to  better  things,  when  prosperity  comes.  But 
now  these  crude  things  speak  for  the  pioneer  period  of 
the  man,  and  therefore  they  are  the  right  things  for  the 
moment.  How  absurd  would  be  the  refined  etching 
and  the  delicate  water-color  on  these  clay  walls,  even 
were  they  within  his  grasp  ! 

The  first  impulse  of  all  of  us  is  to  hang  the  things 
we  admire  on  our  walls.  Unfortunately,  we  do  not 
always  select  papers  and  fabrics  and  pictures  we  will 
continue  to  admire.  Who  does  n't  know  the  woman 
who  goes  to  a  shop  and  selects  wall  papers  as  she  would 
select  her  gowns,  because  they  are  "new"  and  "differ- 
ent" and  "pretty"^  She  selects  a  "rich"  paper  for  her 
hall  and  an  "elegant"  paper  for  her  drawing-room — the 

55 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

chances  are  it  is  a  nile  green  moire  paper!  For  her 
library  she  thinks  a  paper  imitating  an  Oriental  fabric 
is  the  proper  thing,  and  as  likely  as  not  she  buys  gold 
paper  for  her  dining-room.  She  finds  so  many  charm- 
ing bedroom  papers  that  she  has  no  trouble  in  selecting 
a  dozen  of  them  for  insipid  blue  rooms  and  pink  rooms 
and  lilac  rooms. 

She  forgets  that  while  she  wears  only  one  gown  at 
a  time  she  will  live  with  all  her  wall  papers  all  the 
time.  She  decides  to  use  a  red  paper  of  large  figures  in 
one  room,  and  a  green  paper  with  snaky  stripes  in  the 
adjoining  room,  but  she  does  n't  try  the  papers  out; 
she  does  n't  give  them  the  fair  test  of  living  with 
them  a  few  days. 

You  can  always  buy,  or  borrow,  a  roll  of  the  paper 
you  like  and  take  it  home  and  live  with  it  awhile. 
The  dealer  will  credit  the  roll  when  you  make  the  final 
decisions.  You  should  assemble  all  the  papers  that 
are  to  be  used  in  the  house,  and  all  the  fabrics,  and 
rugs,  and  see  what  the  effect  of  the  various  composi- 
tions will  be,  one  with  another.  You  can't  consider  one 
room  alone,  unless  it  be  a  bedroom,  for  in  our  modern 
houses  we  believe  too  thoroughly  in  spaciousness  to 
separate  our  living  rooms  by  ante-chambers  and  formal 
approaches.  We  must  preserve  a  certain  amount  of 
privacy,  and  have  doors  that  may  be  closed  when  need 
be,  but  we  must  also  consider  the  effect  of  things  when 
those  doors  are  open,  when  the  color  of  one  room  melts 
into  the  color  of  another. 

56 


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o 


THE  TREATMENT  OF  WALLS 

To  me,  the  most  beautiful  wall  is  the  plain  and  dig- 
nified painted  wall,  broken  into  graceful  panels  by  the 
use  of  narrow  moldings,  with  lighting  fixtures  care- 
fully placed,  and  every  picture  and  mirror  hung  with 
classic  precision.  This  wall  is  just  as  appropriate  to 
the  six-room  cottage  as  to  the  twenty-room  house.  If 
I  could  always  find  perfect  walls,  I  'd  always  paint 
them,  and  never  use  a  yard  of  paper.  Painted  walls, 
when  very  well  done,  are  dignified  and  restful,  and 
most  sanitary.  The  trouble  is  that  too  few  plasterers 
know  how  to  smooth  the  wall  surface,  and  too  few 
workmen  know  how  to  apply  paint  properly.  In  my 
new  house  on  East  Fifty-fifth  Street  I  have  had  all 
the  walls  painted.  The  woodwork  is  ivory  white 
throughout  the  house,  except  in  the  dining-room,  where 
the  walls  and  woodwork  are  soft  gray.  The  walls 
of  most  of  the  rooms  and  halls  are  painted  a  very  deep 
tone  of  cream  and  are  broken  into  panels,  the  moldings 
being  painted  cream  like  the  woodwork.  With  such 
walls  you  can  carry  out  any  color-plan  you  may  de- 
sire. 

You  would  think  that  every  woman  would  know 
that  walls  are  influenced  by  the  exposure  of  the  room, 
but  how  often  I  have  seen  bleak  north  rooms  with  walls 
papered  in  cold  gray,  and  sunshiny  south  rooms  with 
red  or  yellow  wall  papers !  Dull  tones  and  cool  colors 
are  always  good  in  south  rooms,  and  live  tones  and 
warm  colors  in  north  rooms.  For  instance,  if  you 
wish  to  keep  your  rooms  in  one  color-plan,  you  may  have 

59 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

white  woodwork  in  all  of  them,  and  walls  of  varying 
shades  of  cream  and  yellow.  The  north  rooms  may 
have  walls  painted  or  papered  with  a  soft,  warm  yellow 
that  suggests  creamy  chiffon  over  orange.  The  south 
rooms  may  have  the  walls  of  a  cool  creamy-gray  tone. 

Whether  you  paint  or  paper  your  walls,  you  should 
consider  the  placing  of  the  picture-molding  most  care- 
fully. If  the  ceiling  is  very  high,  the  walls  will 
be  more  interesting  if  the  picture-molding  is  placed 
three  or  four  feet  below  the  ceiling  line.  If  the  ceil- 
ing is  low,  the  molding  should  be  within  two  inches 
of  the  ceiling.  These  measurements  are  not  arbitrary, 
of  course.  Every  room  is  a  law  unto  itself,  and  no 
cut  and  dried  rule  can  be  given.  A  fine  frieze  is  a 
very  beautiful  decoration,  but  it  must  be  very  fine  to 
be  worth  while  at  all.  Usually  the  dropped  ceiling  is 
better  for  the  upper  wall  space.  It  goes  without  say- 
ing that  those  dreadful  friezes  perpetrated  by  certain 
wall  paper  designers  are  very  bad  form,  and  should 
never  be  used.  Indeed,  the  very  principle  of  the  or- 
dinary paper  frieze  is  bad ;  it  darkens  the  upper  wall  un- 
pleasantly, and  violates  the  good  old  rule  that  the  floors 
should  be  darkest  in  tone,  the  side  walls  lighter,  and 
the  ceiling  lightest.  The  recent  vogue  of  stenciling 
walls  may  be  objected  to  on  this  account,  though  a  very 
narrow  and  conventional  line  of  stenciling  may  some- 
times be  placed  just  under  the  picture  rail  with  good 
effect. 

In  a  great  room  with  a  beamed  ceiling  and  oak 

60 


THE  TREATMENT  OF  WALLS 

paneled  walls  a  painted  fresco  or  a  frieze  of  tapestry 
or  some  fine  fabric  is  a  very  fine  thing,  especially  if  it 
has  a  lot  of  primitive  red  and  blue  and  gold  in  it,  but 
in  simple  rooms — beware! 

Lately  there  has  been  a  great  revival  of  interest  in 
wood  paneling.  We  go  abroad,  and  see  the  magnifi- 
cent paneling  of  old  English  houses,  and  we  come 
home  and  copy  it.  But  we  cannot  get  the  workmen 
who  will  carve  panels  in  the  old  patterns.  We  cannot 
wait  a  hundred  years  for  the  soft  bloom  that  comes  from 
the  constant  usage,  and  so  our  paneled  rooms  are  apt 
to  be  too  new  and  woody.  But  we  have  such  a  won- 
derful store  of  woods,  here  in  America,  it  is  worth  while 
to  panel  our  rooms,  copying  the  simple  rectangular  Eng- 
lish patterns,  and  it  is  quite  permissible  to  "age"  our 
walls  by  rubbing  in  black  wax,  and  little  shadows  of 
water-color,  and  in  fact  by  any  method  we  can  devise. 
Wood  paneled  walls,  like  beamed  ceilings,  are  best  in 
great  rooms.    They  make  boxes  of  little  ones. 

Painted  walls,  and  walls  hung  with  tapestries  and 
leather,  are  not  possible  to  many  of  us,  but  they  are 
the  most  magnificent  of  wall  treatments.  I  know  a 
wonderful  library  with  walls  hung  in  squares  of  Span- 
ish leather,  a  cold  northern  room  that  merits  such  a 
brilliant  wall  treatment.  The  primitive  colors  of  the 
Cordova  leather  workers,  with  gold  and  crimson  dom- 
inant, glow  from  the  deep  shadows.  Spanish  and 
Italian  furniture  and  fine  old  velvets  and  brocades  fur- 
nish this  room.    The  same  sort  of  room  invites  wood 

61 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

paneling  and  tapestry,  whereas  the  ideal  room  for 
painted  walls  in  a  lighter  key  is  the  ballroom,  or  some 
such  large  apartment.  I  once  decorated  a  ballroom 
with  Pillement  panels,  copied  from  a  beautiful  Eigh- 
teenth Century  room,  and  so  managed  to  bring  a  riot  of 
color  and  decoration  into  a  large  apartment.  The 
ground  of  the  paneling  was  deep  yellow,  and  all  the 
little  birds  and  flowers  surrounding  the  central  design 
were  done  in  the  very  brightest,  strongest  colors  im- 
aginable. The  various  panels  had  quaint  little  scenes 
of  the  same  Chinese  flavor.  Of  course,  in  such  an 
apartment  as  a  ballroom  there  would  be  nothing  to 
break  into  the  decorative  plan  of  the  painted  walls, 
and  the  unbroken  polished  floor  serves  only  to  throw  the 
panels  into  their  proper  prominence.  Painted  walls, 
when  done  in  some  such  broad  and  daring  manner,  are 
very  wonderful,  but  they  should  not  be  attempted  by 
the  amateur,  or,  indeed,  by  an  expert  in  a  room  that 
will  be  crowded  with  furniture,  and  curtains,  and  rugs. 

If  your  walls  are  faulty,  you  must  resort  to  wall 
papers  or  fabrics.  Properly  selected  wall  papers 
are  not  to  be  despised.  The  woodwork  of  a  room,  of 
course,  directly  influences  the  treatment  of  its  walls. 
So  many  people  ask  me  for  advice  about  wall  papers, 
and  forget  absolutely  to  tell  me  of  the  finish  of  the 
framing  of  their  wall  spaces.  A  pale  yellowish  cream 
wall  paper  is  very  charming  with  woodwork  of  white, 
but  it  would  not  do  with  woodwork  of  heavy  oak,  for 
instance. 

62 


THE  TREATMENT  OF  WALLS 

A  general  rule  to  follow  in  a  small  house  is :  do  not 
have  a  figured  wall  paper  if  you  expect  to  use  things 
of  large  design  in  your  rooms.  If  you  have  gorgeous 
rugs  and  hangings,  keep  your  walls  absolutely  plain. 
In  furnishing  the  Colony  Club  I  used  a  ribbon  grass 
paper  in  the  hallway.  The  fresh,  spring-like  green 
and  white  striped  paper  is  very  delightful  with  a  car- 
pet and  runner  of  plain  dark-green  velvet,  and  white 
woodwork,  and  dark  mahogany  furniture,  and  many 
gold-framed  mirrors.  In  another  room  in  this  building 
where  many  chintzes  and  fabrics  were  used,  I  painted 
the  woodwork  white  and  the  walls  a  soft  cream  color. 
In  the  bedrooms  I  used  a  number  of  wall  papers,  the 
most  fascinating  of  these,  perhaps,  is  in  the  bird  room. 
The  walls  are  hung  with  a  daringly  gorgeous  paper 
covered  with  birds — birds  of  paradise  and  paroquets 
perched  on  flowery  tropical  branches.  The  furniture 
in  this  room  is  of  black  and  gold  lacquer,  and  the  rug 
and  hangings  are  of  jade  green.  It  would  not  be  so 
successful  in  a  room  one  lived  in  all  the  year  around, 
but  it  is  a  good  example  of  what  one  can  do  with  a 
tempting  wall  paper  in  an  occasional  room,  a  guest 
room,  for  instance. 

Some  of  the  figured  wall  papers  are  so  decorative 
that  they  are  more  than  tempting,  they  are  compelling. 
The  Chinese  ones  are  particularly  fascinating.  Re- 
cently I  planned  a  small  boudoir  in  a  country  house 
that  depended  on  a  gay  Chinoiserie  paper  for  its  charm. 
The  design  of  the  paper  was  made  up  of  quaint  little 

65 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

figures  and  parasols  and  birds  and  twisty  trees,  all  in 
soft  tones  of  green  and  blue  and  mauve  on  a  deep  cream 
ground.  The  woodwork  and  ceiling  repeated  the 
deep  cream,  and  the  simple  furniture  (a  day  bed,  a 
chest  of  drawers,  and  several  chairs)  were  of  wood, 
painted  a  flat  blue  green  just  the  color  of  the  twisty 
pine-trees  of  the  paper. 

We  had  a  delightful  time  decorating  the  furniture 
with  blue  and  mauve  lines,  and  we  painted  parasols 
and  birds  and  flowers  on  chair  backs  and  drawer-knobs 
and  so  forth.  The  large  rug  was  of  pinky-mauve-gray, 
and  the  coverings  of  the  day  bed  and  chairs  were  of  a 
mauve  and  gray  striped  stuff,  the  stripes  so  small  that 
they  had  the  effect  of  being  threads  of  color.  There 
were  no  pictures,  of  course,  but  there  was  a  long  mirror 
above  the  chest  of  drawers,  and  another  over  the  man- 
tel. The  lighting-fixtures,  candlesticks  and  appliques, 
were  of  carved  and  painted  wood,  blue-green  with 
shades  of  thin  mauve  silk  over  rose. 

Among  the  most  enchanting  of  the  new  papers  are 
the  black  and  white  ones,  fantastic  Chinese  designs  and 
startling  Austrian  patterns.  Black  and  white  is  al- 
ways a  tempting  combination  to  the  decorator,  and  now 
that  Josef  Hoffman,  the  great  Austrian  decorator,  has 
been  working  in  black  and  white  for  a  number  of  years, 
the  more  venturesome  decorators  of  France,  and  Eng- 
land and  America  have  begun  to  follow  his  lead,  and 
are  using  black  and  white,  and  black  and  color,  with 
amazing  effect.    We  have  black  papers  patterned  in 

66 


THE  TREATMENT  OF  WALLS 

color,  and  black  velvet  carpets,  and  white  coated 
papers  sprinkled  with  huge  black  polka  dots,  and  all 
manner  of  unusual  things.  It  goes  without  saying 
that  much  of  this  fad  is  freakish,  but  there  is  also  much 
that  is  good  enough  and  refreshing  enough  to  last. 
One  can  imagine  nothing  fresher  than  a  black  and 
white  scheme  in  a  bedroom,  with  a  saving  neutrality 
of  gray  or  some  dull  tone  for  rugs,  and  a  brilliant  bit 
of  color  in  porcelain.  There  is  no  hint  of  the  mourn- 
ful in  the  decorator's  combination  of  black  and  white : 
rather,  there  is  a  naive  quality  suggestive  of  smartness 
in  a  gown,  or  chic  in  a  woman.  A  white  walled  room 
with  white  woodwork  and  a  black  and  white  tiled  floor ; 
a  black  lacquer  bed  and  chest  of  drawers  and  chair; 
glass  curtains  of  white  muslin  and  inside  ones  of  black 
and  white  Hoffman  chintz;  a  splash  of  warm  orange- 
red  in  an  oval  rug  at  the  bedside,  if  it  be  winter,  or  a 
cool  green  one  in  summer — does  n't  this  tempt  you? 

I  once  saw  a  little  serving-maid  wearing  a  calico 
gown,  black  crosses  on  a  white  ground,  and  I  was  so  en- 
chanted with  the  cool  crispness  of  it  that  I  had  a  glazed 
wall  paper  made  in  the  same  design.  I  have  used  it 
in  bedrooms,  and  in  bathrooms,  always  with  admirable 
effect.  One  can  imagine  a  girl  making  a  Pierrot  and 
Pierrette  room  for  herself,  given  whitewashed  walls, 
white  woodwork,  and  white  painted  furniture.  An 
ordinary  white  cotton  printed  with  large  black  polka 
dots  would  make  delightful  curtains,  chair-cushions, 
and  so  forth.    The  rug  might  be  woven  of  black  and 

67 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

white  rags,  or  might  be  one  of  those  woven  from  the 
old  homespun  coverlet  patterns. 

The  landscape  papers  that  were  so  popular  in  the 
New  England  and  Southern  houses  three  generations 
ago  were  very  wonderful  when  they  were  used  in  hall- 
ways, with  graceful  stairs  and  white  woodwork,  but 
they  were  distressing  when  used  in  living-rooms.  It  is 
all  very  well  to  cover  the  walls  of  your  hall  with  a 
hand-painted  paper,  or  a  landscape,  or  a  foliage  paper, 
because  you  get  only  an  impressionistic  idea  of  a  hall 
— you  don't  loiter  there.  But  papers  of  large  design 
are  out  of  place  in  rooms  where  pictures  and  books  are 
used.  If  there  is  anything  more  dreadful  than  a  busy 
"parlor"  paper,  with  scrolls  that  tantalize  or  flowers 
that  demand  to  be  counted,  I  have  yet  to  encounter  it. 

Remember,  above  all  things  that  your  walls  must  be 
beautiful  in  themselves.  They  must  be  plain  and 
quiet,  ready  to  receive  sincere  things,  but  quite  good 
enough  to  get  along  without  pictures  if  necessary.  A 
wall  that  is  broken  into  beautiful  spaces  and  covered 
with  a  soft  creamy  paint,  or  paper,  or  grasscloth,  is 
good  enough  for  any  room.  It  may  be  broken  with 
lighting  fixtures,  and  it  is  finished. 


68 


VI 


THE  EFFECTIVE  USE  OF  COLOR 

WHAT  a  joyous  thing  is  color!  How  in- 
fluenced we  all  are  by  it,  even  if  we  are  un- 
conscious of  how  our  sense  of  restfulness 
has  been  brought  about.  Certain  colors  are  antago- 
nistic to  each  of  us,  and  I  think  we  should  try  to  learn 
just  what  colors  are  most  sympathetic  to  our  own  in- 
dividual emotions,  and  then  make  the  best  of  them. 

If  you  are  inclined  to  a  hasty  temper,  for  instance, 
you  should  not  live  in  a  room  in  which  the  prevailing 
note  is  red.  On  the  other  hand,  a  timid,  delicate  na- 
ture could  often  gain  courage  and  poise  by  living  in 
surroundings  of  rich  red  tones,  the  tones  of  the  old 
Italian  damasks  in  which  the  primitive  colors  of  the 
Middle  Ages  have  been  handed  down  to  us.  No  half 
shades,  no  blending  of  tender  tones  are  needed  in  an 
age  of  iron  nerves.  People  worked  hard,  and  they  got 
downright  blues  and  reds  and  greens — primitive  colors, 
all.  Nowadays,  we  must  consider  the  effect  of  color 
on  our  nerves,  our  eyes,  our  moods,  everything. 

Love  of  color  is  an  emotional  matter,  just  as  much 
as  love  of  music.  The  strongest,  the  most  intense,  feel- 
ing I  have  about  decoration  is  my  love  of  color.  I 
have  felt  as  intimate  a  satisfaction  at  St.  Mark's  at  twi- 
light as  I  ever  felt  at  any  opera,  though  I  love  music. 

71 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

Color!  The  very  word  would  suggest  warm  and 
agreeable  arrangement  of  tones,  a  pleasing  and  encour- 
aging atmosphere  which  is  full  of  life.  We  say  that 
one  woman  is  "so  full  of  color,"  when  she  is  alert  and 
happy  and  vividly  alive.  We  say  another  woman  is 
"colorless,"  because  she  is  bleak  and  chilling  and  un- 
friendly. We  demand  that  certain  music  shall  be  full 
of  color,  and  we  always  seek  color  in  the  pages  of  our 
favorite  books.  One  poet  has  color  and  to  spare,  an- 
other is  cynical  and  hard  and — gray.  We  think  and 
criticize  from  the  standpoint  of  an  appreciation  of 
color,  although  often  we  have  not  that  appreciation. 

There  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  the 
person  who  appreciates  color  and  the  person  who  "likes 
colors."  The  child,  playing  with  his  broken  toys  and 
bits  of  gay  china  and  glass,  the  American  Indian  with 
his  gorgeous  blankets  and  baskets  and  beads- — all  these 
primitive  minds  enjoy  the  combination  of  vivid  tones, 
but  they  have  no  more  feeling  for  color  than  a  blind 
man.  The  appreciation  of  color  is  a  subtle  and  in- 
tellectual quality. 

Sparrow,  the  Englishman  who  has  written  so  many 
books  on  housefurnishing,  says:  "Colors  are  like 
musical  notes  and  chords,  while  color  is  a  pleasing  re- 
sult of  their  artistic  use  in  a  combined  way.  So  colors 
are  means  to  an  end,  while  color  is  the  end  itself.  The 
first  are  tools,  while  the  other  is  a  distinctive  harmony 
in  art  composed  of  many  lines  and  shades." 

We  are  aware  that  some  people  are  "color-blind," 

72 


THE  EFFECTIVE  USE  OF  COLOR 

but  we  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  ascertain  whether  the 
majority  of  people  see  colors  crudely.  I  suppose  there 
are  as  many  color-blind  people  as  there  are  people  who 
have  a  deep  feeling  for  color,  and  the  great  masses  of 
people  in  between,  while  they  know  colors  one  from 
another,  have  no  appreciation  of  hue.  Just  as  surely, 
there  are  some  people  who  cannot  tell  one  tune  from  an- 
other and  some  people  who  have  a  deep  and  passion- 
ate feeling  for  music,  while  the  rest — the  great  major- 
ity of  people — can  follow  a  tune  and  sing  a  hymn,  but 
they  can  go  no  deeper  into  music  than  that. 

Surely,  each  of  you  must  know  your  own  color-sense. 
You  know  whether  you  get  results,  don't  you?  I  have 
never  believed  that  there  is  a  woman  so  blind  that  she 
cannot  tell  good  from  bad  effects,  even  though  she  may 
not  be  able  to  tell  why  one  room  is  good  and  another 
bad.  It  is  as  simple  as  the  problem  of  the  well-gowned 
woman  and  the  dowdy  one.  The  dowdy  woman 
does  n't  realize  the  degree  of  her  own  dowdiness,  but 
she  knows  that  her  neighbor  is  well-gowned,  and  she 
envies  her  with  a  vague  and  pathetic  envy. 

If,  then,  you  are  not  sure  that  you  appreciate  color, 
if  you  feel  that  you,  like  your  children,  like  the  green 
rug  with  the  red  roses  because  it  is  "so  cheerful,"  you 
may  be  sure  that  you  should  let  color-problems  alone, 
and  furnish  your  house  in  neutral  tones,  depending  on 
book-bindings  and  flowers  and  open  fires  and  the  neces- 
sary small  furnishings  for  your  color.  Then,  with  an 
excellent  background  of  soft  quiet  tones,  you  can  ven- 

73 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

ture  a  little  way  at  a  time,  trying  a  bit  of  color  here  for 
a  few  days,  and  asking  yourself  if  you  honestly  like  it, 
and  then  trying  another  color — a  jar  or  a  bowl  or  a 
length  of  fabric — somewhere  else,  and  trying  that  out. 
You  will  soon  find  that  your  joy  in  your  home  is 
growing,  and  that  you  have  a  source  of  happiness 
within  yourself  that  you  had  not  suspected.  I  believe 
that  good  taste  can  be  developed  in  any  woman,  just  as 
surely  as  good  manners  are  possible  to  anyone.  And 
good  taste  is  as  necessary  as  good  manners. 

We  may  take  our  first  lessons  in  color  from  Nature9 
on  whose  storehouse  we  can  draw  limitlessly.  Nature, 
when  she  plans  a  wondrous  splash  of  color,  prepares  a 
proper  background  for  it.  She  gives  us  color  plans  for 
all  the  needs  we  can  conceive.  White  and  gray  clouds 
on  a  blue  sky — what  more  could  she  use  in  such  a  com- 
position? A  bit  of  gray  green  moss  upon  a  black  rock, 
a  field  of  yellow  dandelions,  a  pink  and  white  spike  of 
hollyhocks,  an  orange-colored  butterfly  poised  on  a 
stalk  of  larkspur — what  color-plans  are  these ! 

I  think  that  the  first  consideration  after  you  have 
settled  your  building-site  should  be  to  place  your  house 
so  that  its  windows  may  frame  Nature's  own  pictures. 
With  windows  facing  north  and  south,  where  all  the 
fluctuating  and  wayward  charm  of  the  season  unrolls 
before  your  eyes,  your  windows  become  the  finest  pic- 
tures that  you  can  have.  When  this  has  been  ar- 
ranged, it  is  time  to  consider  the  color-scheme  for  the 
interior  of  the  house,  the  colors  that  shall  be  in  har- 

74 


i 


THE  EFFECTIVE  USE  OF  COLOR 

mony  with  the  window-framed  vistas,  the  colors  that 
shall  be  backgrounds  for  the  intimate  personal  furnish- 
ings of  your  daily  life.  You  must  think  of  your  walls 
as  backgrounds  for  the  colors  you  wish  to  bring  into 
your  rooms.  And  by  colors  I  do  not  mean  merely  the 
primary  colors,  red  and  blue  and  yellow,  or  the  sec- 
ondary colors,  green  and  orange  and  violet,  I  mean  the 
white  spaces,  the  black  shadows,  the  gray  halftones, 
the  suave  creams,  that  give  you  the  feeling  of  color. 

How  often  we  get  a  more  definite  idea  of  brilliant 
color  from  a  white-walled  room,  with  dark  and  severe 
furniture  and  no  ornaments,  no  actual  color  save  the 
blue  sky  framed  by  the  windows  and  the  flood  of  sun- 
shine that  glorifies  everything,  than  from  a  room  that 
has  a  dozen  fine  colors,  carefully  brought  together,  in  its 
furnishings ! 

We  must  decide  our  wall  colors  by  the  aspect  of  our 
rooms.  Rooms  facing  south  may  be  very  light  gray, 
cream,  or  even  white,  but  northern  rooms  should  be  rich 
in  color,  and  should  suggest  warmth  and  just  a  little 
mystery.  Some  of  you  have  seen  the  Sala  di  Cambio  at 
Perugia.  Do  you  remember  how  dark  it  seems  when 
one  enters,  and  how  gradually  the  wonderful  coloring 
glows  out  from  the  gloom  and  one  is  comforted  and 
soothed  into  a  sort  of  dreamland  of  pure  joy,  in  the 
intimate  satisfaction  of  it  all4?  It  is  unsurpassable  for 
sheer  decorative  charm,  I  think. 

For  south  rooms  blues  and  grays  and  cool  greens  and 
all  the  dainty  gay  colors  are  charming.    Do  you  re- 

77 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

member  the  song  Edna  May  used  to  sing  in  "The  Belle 
of  New  York"?  I  am  not  sure  of  quoting  correctly, 
but  the  refrain  was:  "Follow  the  Light !"  I  have  so 
often  had  it  in  mind  when  I 've  been  planning  my  color 
schemes — "Follow  the  Light!"  But  light  colors  for 
sunshine,  remember,  and  dark  ones  for  shadow. 

For  north  rooms  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  the  use  of 
paneling  in  our  native  American  woods,  that  are  so  rich 
in  effect,  but  alas,  so  little  used.  I  hope  our  architects 
will  soon  realize  what  delightful  and  inexpensive 
rooms  can  be  made  of  pine  and  cherry,  chestnut  and 
cypress,  and  the  beautiful  California  redwood.  I 
know  of  a  library  paneled  with  cypress.  The  beamed 
ceiling,  the  paneled  walls,  the  built-in  shelves,  the  am- 
ple chairs  and  long  tables  are  all  of  the  soft  brown 
cypress.  Here,  if  anywhere,  you  would  think  a  monot- 
ony of  brown  wood  would  be  obvious,  but  think  of  the 
thousands  of  books  with  brilliant  bindings !  Think  of 
the  green  branches  of  trees  seen  through  the  casement 
windows !  Think  of  the  huge,  red-brick  fireplace,  with 
its  logs  blazing  in  orange  and  yellow  and  vermillion 
flame!  Think  of  the  distinction  of  a  copper  bowl  of 
yellow  flowers  on  the  long  brown  table!  Can't  you 
see  that  this  cypress  room  is  simply  glowing  with  color? 

I  wish  that  I  might  be  able  to  show  all  you  young 
married  girls  who  are  working  out  your  home-schemes 
just  how  to  work  out  the  color  of  a  room.  Suppose 
you  are  given  some  rare  and  lovely  jar,  or  a  wee  rug, 
or  a  rare  old  print,  or  even  a  quaint  old  chair  from  long 

78 


THE  EFFECTIVE  USE  OF  COLOR 

ago,  and  build  a  room  around  it.  I  have  some  such 
point  of  interest  in  every  room  I  build,  and  I  think 
that  is  why  some  people  like  my  rooms — they  feel, 
without  quite  knowing  why,  that  I  have  loved  them 
while  making  them.  Now  there  is  a  little  sitting-room 
and  bedroom  combined  in  a  certain  New  York  house 
that  I  worked  out  from  a  pair  of  Chinese  jars.  They 
were  the  oddest  things,  of  a  sort  of  blue-green  and 
mauve  and  mulberry,  with  flecks  of  black,  on  a  cream 
porcelain  ground. 

First  I  found  a  wee  Oriental  rug  that  repeated  the 
colors  of  the  jugs.  This  was  to  go  before  the  hearth. 
Then  I  worked  out  the  shell  of  the  room:  the  wood- 
work white,  the  walls  bluish  green,  the  plain  carpet 
a  soft  green.  I  designed  the  furniture  and  had  it 
made  by  a  skilful  carpenter,  for  I  could  find  none  that 
would  harmonize  with  the  room. 

The  day  bed  which  is  forty-two  inches  wide,  is  built 
like  a  wide  roomy  sofa.  One  would  never  suspect  it 
of  being  a  plain  bed.  Still  it  makes  no  pretensions  to 
anything  else,  for  it  has  the  best  of  springs  and  the 
most  comfortable  of  mattresses,  and  a  dozen  soft  pil- 
lows. The  bed  is  of  wood  and  is  painted  a  soft 
green,  with  a  dark-green  line  running  all  around,  and 
little  painted  festoons  of  flowers  in  decoration.  The 
mattress  and  springs  are  covered  with  a  most  delight- 
ful mauve  chintz,  on  which  birds  and  flowers  are  pat- 
terned. There  are  several  easy  chairs  cushioned  with 
this  chintz,  and  the  window  hangings  are  also  of  it. 

79 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

The  chest  of  drawers  is  painted  in  the  same  manner. 
There  are  glass  knobs  on  the  drawers,  and  a  sheet  of 
plate  glass  covers  the  top  of  it.  An  old  painting 
hangs  above  it. 

The  open  bookshelves  are  perfectly  plain  in  con- 
struction. They  are  painted  the  same  bluish-green, 
and  the  only  decoration  is  the  line  of  dark  green  about 
half  an  inch  from  the  edge.  Any  woman  who  is  skil- 
ful with  her  brush  could  decorate  furniture  of  this 
kind,  and  I  daresay  many  women  could  build  it. 

There  is  another  bedroom  in  this  house,  a  room  in 
red  and  blue.  "Red  and  blue" — you  shudder.  I 
know  it !    But  such  red  and  such  blue ! 

Will  you  believe  me  when  I  assure  you  that  this 
room  is  called  cool  and  restful-looking  by  everyone 
who  sees  it?  The  walls  are  painted  plain  cream. 
The  woodwork  is  white.  The  perfectly  plain  carpet 
rug  is  of  a  dull  red  that  is  the  color  of  an  old-fashioned 
rose — you  know  the  roses  that  become  lavender 
when  they  fade*?  The  mantel  is  of  Siena  marble,  and 
over  it  there  is  an  old  mirror  with  an  upper  panel 
painted  in  colors  after  the  manner  of  some  of  those 
delightful  old  rooms  found  in  France  about  the  time 
of  Louis  XVI.  If  you  have  one  very  good  picture 
and  will  use  it  in  this  way,  inset  over  the  mantel 
with  a  mirror  below  it,  you  will  need  no  other  pic- 
tures in  your  room. 

The  chintz  used  in  this  room  is  patterned  in  the  rose 
red  of  the  carpet  and  a  dull  cool  blue,  on  a  white 

80 


Ey  permission  of  tbe  Butterick  Publishing  Co. 

THE  WRITING  CORNER  OF  A  CHINTZ  BEDROOM 


THE  EFFECTIVE  USE  OF  COLOR 

ground.  This  chintz  is  used  on  the  graceful  sofa,  the 
several  chairs  and  the  bed,  which  are  ivory  in  tone. 
The  hangings  of  the  bed  are  lined  with  taffetas  of 
rose  red.  The  bedcover  is  of  the  same  silk,  and  the 
inner  curtains  at  the  window  are  lined  with  it.  The 
small  table  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  the  kidney  table 
beside  the  sofa,  and  the  small  cabinets  near  the  mantel, 
are  of  mahogany.  There  is  a  mahogany  writing-table 
placed  at  right  angles  to  the  windows. 

From  this  rose  and  blue  bedroom  you  enter  a  little 
dressing-room  that  is  also  full  of  color.  Here  are 
the  same  cream  walls,  the  dull  red  carpet,  the  old 
blue  silk  shades  on  lamps  and  candles,  but  the  chintz 
is  different:  the  ground  is  black,  and  gray  parrots  and 
paroquets  swing  in  blue-green  festoons  of  leaves  and 
branches.  The  dressing-table  is  placed  in  front  of  the 
window,  so  that  you  can  see  yourself  for  better  or  for 
worse.  There  is  a  three-fold  mirror  of  black  and  gold 
lacquer,  and  a  Chinese  cabinet  of  the  same  lacquer 
in  the  corner.  The  low  seat  before  the  dressing-table 
is  covered  with  the  chintz.  A  few  costume  prints 
hang  on  the  wall.  You  can  imagine  how  impossible 
it  would  be  to  be  ill-tempered  in  such  a  cheerful  place. 


83 


VII 


OF  DOORS,   AND   WINDOWS,   AND  CHINTZ 

WHAT  a  sense  of  intimacy,  of  security,  en- 
compasses one  when  ushered  into  a  living 
room  in  which  the  door  opens  and  closes! 
Who  that  has  read  Henry  James's  remarkable  article 
on  the  vistas  dear  to  the  American  hostess,  our  portiere- 
hung  spaces,  guiltless  of  doors  and  open  to  every 
draft,  can  fail  to  feel  how  much  better  our  conversa- 
tion might  be  were  we  not  forever  conscious  that  be- 
tween our  guests  and  the  greedy  ears  of  our  servants 
there  is  nothing  but  a  curtain !  All  that  curtains  ever 
were  used  for  in  the  Eighteenth  Century  was  as  a  means 
of  shutting  out  drafts  in  large  rooms  inadequately 
heated  by  wood  fires. 

How  often  do  we  see  masses  of  draperies  looped 
back  and  arranged  with  elaborate  dust-catching  tassels 
and  fringes  that  mean  nothing.  These  curtains  do 
not  even  draw !  I  am  sure  that  a  good,  well-designed 
door  with  a  simple  box-lock  and  hinges  would  be 
much  less  costly  than  velvet  hangings.  A  door  is 
not  an  ugly  object,  to  be  concealed  for  very  shame,  but 
a  fine  architectural  detail  of  great  value.  Consider 
the  French  and  Italian  doors  with  their  architraves. 

84 


OF  DOORS,  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ 

How  fine  they  are,  how  imposing,  how  honest,  and 
how  well  they  compose ! 

Of  course,  if  your  house  has  been  built  with  open 
archways,  you  will  need  heavy  curtains  for  them,  but 
there  are  curtains  and  curtains.  If  you  need  portieres 
at  all,  you  need  them  to  cut  off  one  room  from  an- 
other, and  so  they  should  hang  in  straight  folds. 
They  should  be  just  what  they  pretend  to  be- — honest 
curtains  with  a  duty  to  fulfil.  For  the  simple  house 
they  may  be  made  of  velvet  or  velveteen  in  some 
neutral  tone  that  is  in  harmony  with  the  rugs  and 
furnishings  of  the  rooms  that  are  to  be  divided.  They 
should  be  double,  usually,  and  a  faded  gilt  gimp  may 
be  used  as  an  outline  or  as  a  binding.  There  are  also 
excellent  fabrics  reproducing  old  brocades  and  even 
old  tapestries,  but  it  is  well  to  be  careful  about  using 
these  fabrics.  There  are  machine-made  "tapestries" 
of  foliage  designs  in  soft  greens  and  tans  and  browns 
on  a  dark  blue  ground  that  are  very  pleasing.  Many 
of  these  stuffs  copy  in  color  and  design  the  verdure 
tapestries,  and  some  of  them  have  fine  blues  and  greens 
suggestive  of  Gobelin.  These  stuffs  are  very  wide  and 
comparatively  inexpensive.  I  thoroughly  advise  a 
stuff  of  this  kind,  but  I  heartily  condemn  the  imita- 
tions of  the  old  tapestries  that  are  covered  with  large 
figures  and  intricate  designs.  These  old  tapestries  are 
as  distinguished  for  their  colors,  their  textures,  and 
their  very  crudities  as  for  their  supreme  beauty  of 
coloring.    It  would  be  foolish  to  imitate  them. 

85 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

As  for  windows  and  their  curtains — I  could  write  a 
book  about  them!  A  window  is  such  a  gay,  animate 
thing.  By  day  it  should  be  full  of  sunshine,  and  if 
it  frames  a  view  worth  seeing,  the  view  should  be  a 
part  of  it.  By  night  the  window  should  be  hidden  by 
soft  curtains  that  have  been  drawn  to  the  side  during 
the  sunshiny  hours. 

In  most  houses  there  is  somewhere  a  group  of 
windows  that  calls  for  an  especial  kind  of  curtain. 
If  these  windows  look  out  over  a  pleasant  garden,  or 
upon  a  vista  of  fields  and  trees,  or  even  upon  a  striking 
sky-line  of  housetops,  you  will  be  wise  to  use  a  thin, 
sheer  glass  curtain  through  which  you  can  look  out, 
but  which  protects  you  from  the  gaze  of  passers-by. 
If  your  group  of  windows  is  so  placed  that  there  is  no 
danger  of  people  passing  and  looking  in,  then  a  short 
sash  curtain  of  swiss  muslin  is  all  that  you  require, 
with  inside  curtains  of  some  heavier  fabric — chintz  or 
linen  or  silk — that  can  be  drawn  at  night. 

If  you  are  building  a  new  house  I  strongly  advise 
you  to  have  at  least  one  room  with  a  group  of  deep 
windows,  made  up  of  small  panes  of  leaded  glass,  and 
a  broad  window-seat  built  beneath  them.  There  is 
something  so  pleasant  and  mellow  in  leaded  glass, 
particularly  when  the  glass  itself  has  an  uneven,  color- 
ful quality.  When  windows  are  treated  thus  archi- 
tecturally they  need  no  glass  curtains.  They  need 
only  side  curtains  of  some  deep-toned  fabric. 

As  for  your  single  windows,  when  you  are  planning 

86 


OF  DOORS,  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ 

them  you  will  be  wise  to  have  the  sashes  so  placed 
that  a  broad  sill  will  be  possible.  There  is  nothing 
pleasanter  than  a  broad  window  sill  at  a  convenient 
height  from  the  floor.  The  tendency  of  American 
builders  nowadays  is  to  use  two  large  glass  sashes  in- 
stead of  the  small  or  medium-sized  panes  of  older 
times. 

This  is  very  bad  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
architect,  because  these  huge  squares  of  glass  suggest 
holes  in  the  wall,  whereas  the  square  or  oblong  panes 
with  their  straight  frames  and  bars  advertise  their  suit- 
ability. The  housewife's  objection  to  small  panes  is 
that  they  are  harder  to  clean  than  the  large  ones,  but 
this  objection  is  not  worthy  of  consideration.  If  we 
really  wish  to  make  our  houses  look  as  if  they  were 
built  for  permanency  we  should  consider  everything 
that  makes  for  beauty  and  harmony  and  hominess. 
There  is  nothing  more  interesting  than  a  cottage  win- 
dow sash  of  small  square  panes  of  glass  unless  it  be 
the  diamond-paned  casement  window  of  an  old  Eng- 
lish house.  Such  windows  are  obviously  windows. 
The  huge  sheets  of  plate  glass  that  people  are  so  proud 
of  are  all  very  well  for  shops,  but  they  are  seldom 
right  in  small  houses. 

I  remember  seeing  one  plate  glass  window  that  was 
well  worth  while.  It  was  in  the  mountain  studio  of 
an  artist  and  it  was  fully  eight  by  ten  feet — one  un- 
broken sheet  of  glass  which  framed  a  marvelous  vista 
of  mountain  and  valley.    It  goes  without  saying  that 

89 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

such  a  window  requires  no  curtain  other  than  one  that 
is  to  be  drawn  at  night. 

The  ideal  treatment  for  the  ordinary  single  window 
is  a  soft  curtain  of  some  thin  white  stuff  hung  flat  and 
full  against  the  glass.  This  curtain  should  have  an 
inch  and  a  half  hem  at  the  bottom  and  a  narrow  hem 
at  the  sides.  It  should  be  strung  on  a  small  brass  rod, 
and  should  be  placed  as  close  to  the  glass  as  possible, 
leaving  just  enough  space  for  the  window  shade  be- 
neath it.  The  curtain  should  hang  in  straight  folds 
to  the  window  sill,  escaping  it  by  half  an  inch  or  so. 

I  hope  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  go  into  the  mat- 
ter of  lace  curtains  here.  I  feel  sure  that  no  woman 
of  really  good  taste  could  prefer  a  cheap  curtain  of 
imitation  lace  to  a  simple  one  of  white  swiss-muslin. 
I  have  never  seen  a  house  room  that  was  too  fine  for 
a  swiss-muslin  curtain,  though  of  course  there  are 
many  rooms  that  would  welcome  no  curtains  whatever 
wherein  the  windows  are  their  own  excuse  for  being. 
Lace  curtains,  even  if  they  may  have  cost  a  king's  ran- 
som, are  in  questionable  taste,  to  put  it  mildly.  Use  all 
the  lace  you  wish  on  your  bed  linen  and  table  linen, 
but  do  not  hang  it  up  at  your  windows  for  passers-by 
to  criticize. 

Many  women  do  not  feel  the  need  of  inside  curtains. 
Indeed,  they  are  not  necessary  in  all  houses.  They  are 
very  attractive  when  they  are  well  hung,  and  they  give 
the  window  a  distinction  and  a  decorative  charm  that 
is  very  valuable.    I  am  using  many  photographs  that 

90 


OF  DOORS,  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ 

show  the  use  of  inside  curtains.  You  will  observe 
that  all  of  these  windows  have  glass  curtains  of  plain 
white  muslin,  no  matter  what  the  inside  curtain  may  be. 

Chintz  curtains  are  often  hung  with  a  valance  about 
ten  or  twelve  inches  deep  across  the  top  of  the  window. 
These  valances  should  be  strung  on  a  separate  rod,  so 
that  the  inside  curtains  may  be  pulled  together  if  need 
be.  The  ruffled  valance  is  more  suitable  for  summer 
cottages  and  bedrooms  than  for  more  formal  rooms. 
A  fitted  valance  of  chintz  or  brocade  is  quite  dignified 
enough  for  a  drawing-room  or  any  other. 

In  my  bedroom  I  have  used  a  printed  linen  with  a 
flat  valance.  This  printed  linen  is  in  soft  tones  of 
rose  and  green  on  a  cream  ground.  The  side  curtains 
have  a  narrow  fluted  binding  of  rose-colored  silk. 
Under  these  curtains  are  still  other  curtains  of  rose- 
colored  shot  silk,  and  beneath  those  are  white  muslin 
glass  curtains.  With  such  a  window  treatment  the 
shot  silk  curtains  are  the  ones  that  are  drawn  together 
at  night,  making  a  very  soft,  comforting  sort  of  color 
arrangement.  You  will  observe  in  this  photograph 
that  the  panels  between  doors  and  windows  are  filled 
with  mirrors  that  run  the  full  length  from  the  mold- 
ing to  the  baseboard.  This  is  a  very  beautiful  setting 
for  the  windows,  of  course. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  glass  curtains  should 
not  be  looped  back.  Inside  curtains  may  be  looped 
when  there  is  no  illogical  break  in  the  line.  It  is 
absurd  to  hang  up  curtains  against  the  glass  and  then 

93 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

draw  them  away,  for  glass  curtains  are  supposed  to 
be  a  protection  from  the  gaze  of  the  passers-by.  If  you 
have  n't  passers-by  you  can  pull  your  curtains  to  the 
side  so  that  you  may  enjoy  the  out-of-doors.  Do  not 
lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  your  windows  are  supposed 
to  give  you  sunshine  and  air;  if  you  drape  them  so 
that  you  get  neither  sunshine  nor  air  you  might  as 
well  block  them  up  and  do  away  with  them  entirely. 

To  me  the  most  amazing  evidence  of  the  advance  of 
good  taste  is  the  revival  of  chintzes,  printed  linens, 
cottons  and  so  forth,  of  the  Eighteenth  Century.  Ten 
years  ago  it  was  almost  impossible  to  find  a  well-de- 
signed cretonne;  the  beautiful  chintzes  as  we  know 
them  were  unknown.  Now  there  are  literally  thou- 
sands of  these  excellent  fabrics  of  old  and  new  designs 
in  the  shops.  The  gay  designs  of  the  printed  cottons 
that  came  to  us  from  East  India,  a  hundred  years  ago, 
and  the  fantastic  chintzes  known  as  Chinese  Chippen- 
dale, that  were  in  vogue  when  the  Dutch  East  India 
Company  supplied  the  world  with  its  china  and  fab- 
rics; the  dainty  French  toiles  de  Jouy  that  are  remi- 
niscent of  Marie  Antoinette  and  her  bewitching  apart- 
ments, and  the  printed  linens  of  old  England  and 
later  ones  of  the  England  of  William  Morris,  all  these 
are  at  our  service.  There  are  charming  cottons  to  be 
had  at  as  little  as  twenty  cents  a  yard,  printed  from  old 
patterns.  There  are  linens  hand-printed  from  old 
blocks  that  rival  cut  velvet  in  their  lustrous  color  effect 
and  cost  almost  as  much.    There  are  amazing  fabrics 

94 


OF  DOORS,  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ 

that  seem  to  have  come  from  the  land  of  the  Arabian 
nights — they  really  come  from  Austria  and  are  dubbed 
"Futurist"  and  "Cubist"  and  such.  Some  of  them  are 
inspiring,  some  of  them  are  horrifying,  but  all  of  them 
are  interesting.  Old-time  chintzes  were  usually  very 
narrow,  and  light  in  ground,  but  the  modern  chintz  is 
forty  or  fifty  inches  wide,  with  a  ground  of  neutral  tone 
that  gives  it  distinction,  and  defies  dust. 

When  I  began  my  work  as  a  decorator  of  houses, 
my  friends,  astonished  and  just  a  little  amused  at  my 
persistent  use  of  chintz,  called  me  the  "Chintz  deco- 
rator." The  title  pleased  me,  even  though  it  was 
bestowed  in  fun,  for  my  theory  has  always  been  that 
chintz,  when  properly  used,  is  the  most  decorative  and 
satisfactory  of  all  fabrics.  At  first  people  objected  to 
my  bringing  chintz  into  their  houses  because  they  had 
an  idea  it  was  poor  and  mean,  and  rather  a  doubtful 
expedient.  On  the  contrary,  I  feel  that  it  is  infinitely 
better  to  use  good  chintzes  than  inferior  silks  and 
damasks,  just  as  simple  engravings  and  prints  are 
preferable  to  doubtful  paintings.  The  effect  is  the 
thing ! 

One  of  the  chief  objections  to  the  charming  fabric 
was  that  people  felt  it  would  become  soiled  easily,  and 
would  often  have  to  be  renewed,  but  in  our  vacuum- 
cleaned  houses  we  no  longer  feel  that  it  is  necessary 
to  have  furniture  and  hangings  that  will  "conceal 
dirt."  We  refuse  to  have  dirt!  Of  course,  chintzes 
in  rooms  that  will  have  hard  wear  should  be  carefully 

95 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

selected.  They  should  be  printed  on  linen,  or  some 
hard  twilled  fabric,  and  the  ground  color  should  be 
darker  than  when  they  are  to  be  used  in  bedrooms. 
Many  of  the  newer  chintzes  have  dark  grounds  of 
blue,  mauve,  maroon  or  gray,  and  a  still  more  recent 
chintz  has  a  black  ground  with  fantastic  designs  of 
the  most  delightful  colorings.  The  black  chintzes  are 
reproductions  of  fabrics  that  were  in  vogue  in  1830. 
They  are  very  good  in  rooms  that  must  be  used  a  great 
deal,  and  they  are  very  decorative.  Some  of  them 
suggest  old  cut  velvets — they  are  so  soft  and  lustrous. 

My  greatest  difficulty  in  introducing  chintzes  here 
was  to  convert  women  who  loved  their  plush  and  satin 
draperies  to  a  simpler  fabric.  They  were  unwilling 
to  give  up  the  glories  they  knew  for  the  charms  they 
knew  not.  I  convinced  them  by  showing  them  results ! 
My  first  large  commission  was  the  Colony  Club,  and 
I  used  chintzes  throughout  the  Club :  Chintzes  of  cool 
grapes  and  leaves  in  the  roof  garden,  hand-blocked 
linens  of  many  soft  colors  in  the  reading-room,  rose- 
sprigged  and  English  posy  designs  in  the  bedrooms, 
and  so  on  throughout  the  building. 

Now  I  am  using  more  chintz  than  anything  else. 
It  is  as  much  at  home  in  the  New  York  drawing-room 
as  in  the  country  cottage.  I  can  think  of  nothing 
more  charming  for  a  room  in  a  country  house  than  a 
sitting-room  furnished  with  gray  painted  furniture  and 
a  lovely  chintz. 

Not  long  ago  I  was  asked  to  furnish  a  small  sea- 

96 


OF  DOORS,  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ 

shore  cottage.  The  whole  thing  had  to  be  done  in  a 
month,  and  the  only  plan  I  had  to  work  on  was  a  batch 
of  chintz  samples  that  had  been  selected  for  the  house. 
I  extracted  the  colorings  of  walls,  woodwork,  furni- 
ture, etc.,  from  these  chintzes.  Instead  of  buying  new 
furniture  I  dragged  down  a  lot  of  old  things  that  had 
been  relegated  to  the  attic  and  painted  them  with  a  dull 
ground  color  and  small  designs  adapted  from  the 
chintzes.  The  lighting  fixtures,  wall  brackets,  candle 
sticks,  etc. — were  of  carved  wood,  painted  in  poly- 
chrome to  match  the  general  scheme.  One  chintz  in 
particular  I  would  like  to  have  every  woman  see  and 
enjoy.  It  had  a  ground  of  old  blue,  patterned 
regularly  with  little  Persian  "pears,"  the  old  rug 
design,  you  know.  The  effect  of  this  simple  chintz 
with  white  painted  walls  and  furniture  and  woodwork 
and  crisp  white  muslin  glass  curtains  was  delicious. 

The  most  satisfactory  of  all  chintzes  is  the  *t oile  de 
Jouy.  The  designs  are  interesting  and  well  drawn, 
and  very  much  more  decorative  than  the  designs  one 
finds  in  ordinary  silks  and  other  materials.  The 
chintzes  must  be  appropriate  to  the  uses  of  the  room, 
well  designed,  in  scale  with  the  height  of  the  ceilings, 
and  so  forth.  It  is  well  to  remember  that  self-color 
rugs  are  most  effective  in  chintz  rooms.  Wilton  rugs 
woven  in  carpet  sizes  are  to  be  had  now  at  all  first 
class  furniture  stores. 

Painted  furniture  is  very  popular  nowadays  and  is 
especially  delightful  when  used  in  chintz  rooms.  The 

99 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

furniture  we  see  now  is  really  a  revival  and  reproduc- 
tion of  the  old  models  made  by  Angelica  Kaufman, 
Heppelwhite,  and  other  furniture-makers  of  their 
period.  The  old  furniture  is  rarely  seen  outside  of 
museums  nowadays,  but  it  has  been  an  inspiration  to 
modern  decorators  who  are  seeking  ideas  for  simple 
and  charming  furniture. 

A  very  attractive  room  can  be  made  by  taking  un- 
finished pieces  of  furniture — that  is,  furniture  that  has 
not  been  stained  or  painted — and  painting  them  a 
soft  field  color,  and  then  adding  decorations  of  bou- 
quets or  garlands,  or  birds,  or  baskets,  reproducing 
parts  of  the  design  of  the  chintz  used  in  the  room. 
Of  course,  many  of  these  patterns  could  be  copied  by 
a  good  draftsman  only,  but  others  are  simple  enough 
for  anyone  to  attempt.  For  instance,  I  decorated  a 
room  in  soft  cream,  gray,  yellow  and  cornflower  blue. 
The  chintz  had  a  cornflower  design  that  repeated  all 
these  colors.  I  painted  the  furniture  a  very  soft  gray, 
and  then  painted  little  garlands  of  cornflowers  in  soft 
blues  and  gray-greens  on  each  piece  of  furniture.  The 
walls  were  painted  a  soft  cream  color.  The  carpet 
rug  of  tan  was  woven  in  one  piece  with  a  blue  stripe 
in  the  border. 

The  color  illustrations  of  this  book  will  give  you  a 
very  good  idea  of  how  I  use  chintzes  and  painted 
furniture.  One  of  the  illustrations  shows  the  use  of  a 
black  chintz  in  the  dressing-room  of  a  city  house.  The 
chintz  is  covered  with  parrots  which  make  gorgeous 

100 


OF  DOORS,  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ 

splashes  of  color  on  the  black  ground.  The  color  of 
the  foliage  and  leaves  is  greenish-blue,  which  shades 
into  a  dozen  blues  and  greens.  This  greenish-blue 
tone  has  been  used  in  the  small  things  of  the  room. 
The  chintz  curtains  are  lined  with  silk  of  this  tone, 
and  the  valance  at  the  top  of  the  group  of  windows 
is  finished  with  a  narrow  silk  fringe  of  this  greenish- 
blue.  The  small  candle  shades,  the  shirred  shade  of 
the  drop-light,  and  the  cushion  of  the  black  lacquer 
chair  are  also  of  this  blue. 

The  walls  of  the  room  are  a  deep  cream  in  tone,  and 
there  are  a  number  of  old  French  prints  from  some 
Eighteenth  Century  fashion  journals  hung  on  the 
cream  ground.  The  dressing-table  is  placed  against 
the  windows,  over  the  radiator,  so  that  there  is  light 
and  to  spare  for  dressing.  Half  curtains  of  white 
muslin  are  shirred  on  the  sashes  back  of  the  dressing- 
table.  The  quaint  triplicate  mirror  is  of  black  lacquer 
decorated  with  Chinese  figures  in  gold,  and  the  little, 
three-cornered  cabinet  in  the  corner  is  also  of  black 
and  gold.  The  chintz  is  used  as  a  covering  for  the 
dressing-seat. 

Another  illustration  shows  the  writing-corner  of  the 
bedroom  which  leads  into  this  dressing-room.  The 
walls  and  the  rose-red  carpet  are  the  same  in  both 
rooms,  as  you  see.  This  bedroom  depends  absolutely 
on  the  rose  and  blue  chintz  for  its  decoration.  There 
is  a  quaint  bed  painted  a  pale  gray,  with  rose-red 
taffeta  coverlet.    The  bed  curtains  are  of  the  chintz 

101 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

lined  with  the  rose-red  silk.  There  are  several  white- 
enamel  chairs  upholstered  with  the  chintz,  and  there 
is  a  comfortable  French  couch  with  a  kidney  table  of 
mahogany  beside  it.  The  corner  of  the  room  shown 
in  the  illustration  is  the  most  convenient  writing-place. 
The  desk  is  placed  at  right  angles  to  the  wall  between 
the  two  windows.  The  small  furnishings  of  the  writ- 
ing-desk repeat  the  queer  blues  and  the  rose-red  of  the 
chintz.  A  very  comfortable  stool  with  a  cushion  of 
old  velvet  is  an  added  convenience. 

The  chintz  curtains  at  the  windows  hang  in  straight, 
full  folds.  A  flat  valance,  cut  the  length  of  the  design 
of  the  chintz,  furnishes  the  top  of  the  two  windows. 
Some  windows  do  not  need  these  valances,  but  these 
windows  are  very  high  and  need  the  connecting  line 
of  color.  The  long  curtains  are  lined  with  the  rose- 
red  silk,  which  also  shows  in  a  narrow  piping  around 
the  edges. 

The  other  two  color  illustrations  are  of  the  most 
popular  room  I  have  done,  a  bedroom  and  sitting  room 
combined.  Everyone  likes  the  color  plan  of  soft 
greens,  mauve  and  lavender.  There  is  a  large  day 
bed  of  painted  wood,  with  mattress,  springs  and 
cushions  covered  with  a  chintz  of  mauve  ground  and 
gay  birds.  The  rug  is  a  self-toned  rug  of  very  soft 
green,  and  the  walls  are  tinted  with  the  palest  of 
greens.  The  woodwork  is  white,  and  the  furniture 
is  painted  a  greenish-gray  that  is  just  a  little  deeper 
than  pearl.    A  darker  green  line  of  paint  outlines  all 

102 


OF  DOORS,  WINDOWS,  AND  CHINTZ 

the  furniture,  which  is  further  decorated  with  prim 
little  garlands  of  flowers  painted  in  dull  rose,  blue, 
yellow  and  green. 

The  mauve  chintz  is  used  for  the  curtains,  and  for 
the  huge  armchair  and  one  or  two  painted  chairs. 
There  is  a  little  footstool  covered  with  brocaded  violet 
velvet,  with  just  a  thread  of  green  showing  on  the 
background.  The  lighting  fixtures  are  of  carved 
wood,  painted  in  soft  colors  to  match  the  garlands  on 
the  furniture,  with  shirred  shades  of  lavender  silk. 
Two  lamps  made  of  quaint  old  green  jars  with  laven- 
der decorations  have  shirred  shades  of  the  same  silk. 
One  of  these  lamps  is  used  on  the  writing-table  and 
the  other  on  the  little  chest  of  drawers. 

This  little  chest  of  drawers,  by  the  way,  is  about 
the  simplest  piece  of  furniture  I  can  think  of,  for  any 
girl  who  can  use  her  brushes  at  all.  An  ordinary  chest 
of  drawers  should  be  given  several  coats  of  paint — 
pale  yellow,  green  or  blue,  as  may  be  preferred.  Then 
a  thin  stripe  of  a  darker  tone  should  be  painted  on  it. 
This  should  be  outlined  in  pencil  and  then  painted 
with  a  deeper  tone  of  green  color;  for  instance,  an 
orange  or  brown  stripe  should  be  used  on  pale  yellow, 
and  dark  green  or  blue  on  the  pale  green. 

A  detail  of  the  wall  paper  or  the  chintz  design  may 
be  outlined  on  the  panels  of  the  drawers  and  on  the 
top  of  the  chest  by  means  of  a  stencil,  and  then  painted 
with  rather  soft  colors.  The  top  of  the  chest  should 
be  covered  with  a  piece  of  plate  glass  which  will  have 

105 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

the  advantage  of  showing  the  design  of  the  cover  and 
of  being  easily  cleaned.  Old-fashioned  glass  knobs 
add  interest  to  this  piece  of  furniture.  A  mirror  with 
a  gilt  frame,  or  an  unframed  painting  similiar  to  the 
one  shown  in  the  illustration  would  be  very  nice  above 
the  chest  of  drawers. 


106 


VIII 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  ARTIFICIAL  LIGHT 

IN  all  the  equipment  of  the  modern  house,  I  think 
there  is  nothing  more  difficult  than  the  problem 
of  artificial  light.  To  have  the  light  properly 
distributed  so  that  the  rooms  may  be  suffused  with 
just  the  proper  glow,  but  never  a  glare;  so  that  the 
base  outlets  for  reading-lamps  shall  be  at  convenient 
angles,  so  that  the  wall  lights  shall  be  beautifully 
balanced, — all  this  means  prodigious  thought  and  care 
before  the  actual  placing  of  the  lights  is  accomplished. 

In  domestic  architecture  light  is  usually  provided 
for  some  special  function;  to  dress  by,  to  read  by,  or 
to  eat  by.  If  properly  considered,  there  is  no  reason 
why  one's  lighting  fixtures  should  not  be  beautiful  as 
well  as  utilitarian.  However,  it  is  seldom  indeed  that 
one  finds  lights  that  serve  the  purposes  of  utility  and 
beauty. 

I  have  rarely,  I  might  say  never,  gone  into  a 
builder's  house  (and  indeed  I  might  say  the  same  of 
many  architects'  houses)  but  that  the  first  things  to 
require  changing  to  make  the  house  amenable  to 
modern  American  needs  were  the  openings  for  light- 
ing fixtures.  Usually,  side  openings  are  placed  much 
too  near  the  trim  of  a  door  or  window,  so  that  no  self- 

109 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

respecting  bracket  can  be  placed  in  the  space  without 
encroaching  on  the  molding.  Another  favorite  mis- 
take is  to  place  the  two  wall  openings  in  a  long  wall 
or  large  panel  so  close  together  that  no  large  picture 
or  mirror  or  piece  of  furniture  can  be  placed  against 
that  wall.  There  is  also  the  tendency  to  place  the 
openings  too  high,  which  always  spoils  a  good  room. 

I  strongly  advise  the  woman  who  is  having  a  house 
built  or  re-arranged  to  lay  out  her  electric  light  plan 
as  early  in  the  game  as  possible,  with  due  consideration 
to  the  uses  of  each  room.  If  there  is  a  high  chest  of 
drawers  for  a  certain  wall,  the  size  of  it  is  just  as 
important  in  planning  the  lighting  fixtures  for  that  wall 
as  is  the  width  of  the  fireplace  important  in  the  plac- 
ing of  the  lights  on  the  chimney-breast.  I  advise  put- 
ting a  liberal  number  of  base  openings  in  a  room,  for 
it  costs  little  when  the  room  is  in  embryo.  Later  on, 
when  you  find  you  can  change  your  favorite  table  and 
chair  to  a  better  position  to  meet  the  inspiration  of 
the  completed  room  and  that  your  reading-lamp  can 
be  moved,  too,  because  the  outlet  is  there  ready  for  it, 
will  come  the  compensating  moments  when  you  con- 
gratulate yourself  on  forethought. 

There  are  now,  fortunately,  few  communities  in 
America  that  have  not  electric  power-plants.  Indeed, 
I  know  of  many  obscure  little  towns  of  a  thousand 
inhabitants  that  have  had  the  luxury  of  electric  lights 
for  years,  and  have  as  yet  no  gas  or  water- works! 
Miraculously,  also,  the  smaller  the  town  the  cheaper 

1 10 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  ARTIFICIAL  LIGHT 

is  the  cost  of  electricity.  This  is  not  a  cut-and-dried 
statement,  but  an  observation  from  personal  experi- 
ence. The  little  town's  electricity  is  usually  a  by- 
product of  some  manufacturing  plant,  and  current  is 
often  sold  at  so  much  per  light  per  month,  instead  of 
being  measured  by  meter.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  that 
many  homes  have  bridged  the  smelly  gap  between 
candles  and  electricity  in  this  magic  fashion. 

Gas  light  is  more  difficult  to  manage  than  elec- 
tricity, for  there  is  always  the  cumbersome  tube  and 
the  necessity  for  adding  mechanical  accessories  before  a 
good  clear  light  is  secured.  Gas  lamps  are  hideous,  for 
some  obscure  reason,  whereas  there  are  hundreds  of 
simple  and  excellent  wall  fixtures,  drop  lights  and 
reading  lamps  to  be  bought  already  equipped  for  elec- 
tricity. The  electric  wire  is  such  an  unobtrusive  thing 
that  it  can  be  carried  through  a  small  hole  in  any  good 
vase,  or  jar,  and  with  a  suitable  shade  you  have  an 
attractive  and  serviceable  reading  light.  Candlesticks 
are  easily  equipped  for  electricity  and  are  the  most 
graceful  of  all  fixtures  for  dressing-tables,  bedside 
tables,  tea  tables,  and  such. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  if  a  room  is  decorated 
in  dark  colors  the  light  will  be  more  readily  absorbed 
than  in  a  light-colored  room,  and  you  should  select 
and  place  your  lighting-fixtures  accordingly.  Bead 
covers,  fringes  and  silk  shades  all  obscure  the  light  and 
re-absorb  it,  and  so  require  a  great  force  of  light  to 
illuminate  properly. 

ill 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

The  subject  of  the  selection  of  lighting-fixtures  is 
limitless.  There  are  so  many  fixtures  to  be  had  now- 
adays— good,  bad  and  indifferent — that  it  were  im- 
possible to  point  out  the  merits  and  demerits  of  them 
all.  There  are  copies  of  all  the  best  lamps  and  lan- 
terns of  old  Europe  and  many  new  designs  that  grew 
out  of  modern  American  needs.  There  are  Louis  XVI 
lanterns  simple  enough  to  fit  well  into  many  an  Ameri- 
can hallway,  that  offer  excellent  lessons  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  master  decorators  of  old  times.  Con- 
trast one  of  these  fine  old  lanterns  with  the  mass  of 
colored  glass  and  beads  and  crude  lines  and  curves  of 
many  modern  hall  lanterns.  I  like  a  ceiling  bowl  of 
crystal  or  alabaster  with  lights  inside,  for  halls,  but 
the  expense  of  such  a  bowl  is  great.  However,  I 
recently  saw  a  reproduction  of  an  old  alabaster  bowl 
made  of  soft,  cloudy  glass,  not  of  alabaster,  which  sold 
at  a  fraction  of  the  price  of  the  original,  and  it  seemed 
to  meet  all  the  requirements. 

Of  course,  one  may  easily  spend  as  much  money  on 
lighting-fixtures  as  on  the  remainder  of  the  house,  but 
that  is  no  reason  why  people  who  must  practise 
economy  should  admit  ugly  fixtures  into  their  homes. 
There  are  always  good  and  bad  fixtures  offered  at  the 
lowest  and  highest  prices.  You  have  no  defense  if 
you  build  your  own  house.  If  you  are  making  the  best 
of  a  rented  house  or  an  apartment,  that  is  different. 
But  good  taste  is  sufficient  armor  against  the  snare  of 
gaudy  beads  and  cheap  glass. 

112 


DETAIL  OF  A  FINE  OLD  FRENCH  FIXTURE  OF  HAND-WROUGHT  METAL 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  ARTIFICIAL  LIGHT 

There  was  recently  an  exhibition  in  New  York  of 
the  craftsmanship  of  the  students  of  a  certain  school 
of  design.  There  were  some  really  beautiful  lanterns 
and  wall  brackets  and  reading  lamps  shown,  designed 
and  executed  by  young  women  who  are  self  supporting 
by  day  and  can  give  only  a  few  evening  hours,  or  an 
occasional  day,  to  the  pursuit  of  their  avocation.  One 
hanging  lantern  of  terra  cotta  was  very  fine  indeed, 
and  there  were  many  notable  fixtures.  There  must 
be  easily  tens  of  thousands  of  young  people  who  are 
students  in  the  various  schools  of  design,  manual  train- 
ing high  schools  and  normal  art  schools. 

Why  does  n't  some  far-seeing  manufacturer  of  light- 
ing-fixtures give  these  young  people  a  chance  to  adapt 
the  fine  old  French  and  Italian  designs  to  our  modern 
needs'?  Why  not  have  your  daughter  or  son  copy 
such  an  object  that  has  use  and  beauty,  instead  of  en- 
couraging the  daubing  of  china  or  the  piercing  of  brass 
that  leads  to  nothing?  And  if  you  have  n't  a  daugh- 
ter or  son,  encourage  the  young  artisan,  your  neighbor, 
who  is  trying  to  "find  himself."  Let  him  copy  a  few 
good  old  fixtures  for  you.  They  will  cost  no  more 
than  the  gaudy  vulgar  fixtures  that  are  sold  in  so  many 
shops. 

The  photograph  shown  on  page  108  illustrates 
the  possibility  of  using  a  number  of  lighting-fixtures 
in  one  room.  The  room  shown  is  my  own  drawing- 
room.  You  will  observe  that  in  this  picture  there  are 
many  different  lights.    The  two  old  French  fixtures 

115 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

of  wrought  gilt,  which  flank  the  mantel  mirror,  hold 
wax  candles.  The  two  easy  chairs  have  little  tables 
beside  them  holding  three-pronged  silver  candlesticks. 
There  is  also  a  small  table  holding  an  electric  reading- 
lamp,  made  of  a  Chinese  jar,  with  a  shade  of  shirred 
silk.  The  chandelier  is  a  charming  old  French  affair 
of  gracefully  strung  crystal  globules.  For  a  formal 
occasion  the  chandelier  is  lighted,  but  when  we  are 
few,  we  love  the  fire  glow  and  candlelight.  If  we 
require  a  stronger  light  for  reading  there  is  the  lamp. 

The  photograph  here  given  may  suggest  a  super- 
fluous number  of  lights,  but  the  room  itself  does  not. 
The  wall  fixtures  are  of  gilt,  you  see,  the  candlesticks 
of  silver,  the  chandelier  of  crystal  and  the  lamp  of 
Chinese  porcelain  and  soft  colored  silk;  so  one  is  not 
conscious  of  the  many  lights.  If  all  the  lights  were 
screened  in  the  same  way  the  effect  would  be  different. 
I  use  this  picture  for  this  very  reason — to  show  how 
many  lights  may  be  assembled  and  used  in  one  place. 
In  considering  the  placing  of  these  lights,  the  firelight 
was  not  forgotten,  nor  the  effect  of  the  room  by  day 
when  the  sunlight  floods  in  and  these  many  fixtures 
become  objects  of  decorative  interest. 

A  lamp,  or  a  wall  fixture,  or  a  chandelier,  or  a 
candlestick,  must  be  beautiful  in  itself — beautiful  by 
sunlight, — if  it  is  really  successful.  The  soft  glow 
of  night  light  may  make  commonplace  things  beauti- 
ful, but  the  final  test  of  a  fixture  is  its  effect  in  rela- 
tion to  the  other  furnishings  of  the  room  in  sunlight. 

116 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  ARTIFICIAL  LIGHT 

The  picture  on  page  118  shows  the  proper  placing 
of  wall  fixtures  when  a  large  picture  is  the  chief  point 
of  interest.  These  wall  fixtures  are  particularly  in- 
teresting because  they  are  in  the  style  of  the  Adam 
mirrors  that  hang  on  the  recessed  wall  spaces  flanking 
the  chimney  wall.  This  photograph  is  a  lesson  in  the 
placing  of  objects  of  art.  The  large  painting  is 
beautifully  spaced  between  the  line  of  the  mantel  shelf 
and  the  lower  line  of  the  cornice.  The  wall  fixtures 
are  correctly  placed,  and  anyone  can  see  why  they 
would  be  distressingly  out  of  key  if  they  were  nearer 
the  picture,  or  nearer  the  line  of  the  chimney  wall. 
The  picture  was  considered  as  an  important  part  of  the 
chimneypiece  before  the  openings  for  the  fixtures  were 
made. 

Another  good  lamp  is  shown  on  the  small  table  in 
this  picture.  There  is  really  a  reading-lamp  beside 
a  comfortable  couch,  which  cannot  be  seen  in  the 
picture.  This  lamp,  like  the  one  in  the  drawing- 
room,  is  made  from  a  porcelain  vase,  with  a  shirred 
silk  shade  on  a  wire  frame.  An  electric  light  cord  is 
run  through  a  hole  bored  for  it.  If  electricity  were  not 
available,  an  oil  receptacle  of  brass  could  be  fitted  into 
the  vase  and  the  beauty  of  the  lamp  would  be  the 
same. 

There  are  so  many  possibilities  for  making 
beautiful  lamps  of  good  jars  and  vases  that  it  is  sur- 
prising the  shops  still  sell  their  frightful  lamps  covered 
with  cabbage  roses  and  dragons  and  monstrosities.  A 

119 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

blue  and  white  ginger  jar,  a  copper  loving-cup,  or 
even  a  homely  brown  earthenware  bean-pot,  will  make 
a  good  bowl  for  an  oil  or  electric  lamp,  but  of  the 
dreadful  bowls  sold  in  the  shops  for  the  purpose  the 
less  said  the  better.  How  can  one  see  beauty  in  a 
lurid  bowl  and  shade  of  red  glass!  Better  stick  to 
wax  candles  the  rest  of  your  life  than  indulge  in  such 
a  lamp ! 

I  know  people  plead  that  they  have  to  buy  what  is 
offered;  they  cannot  find  simple  lamps  and  hanging 
lanterns  at  small  prices  and  so  they  must  buy  bad  ones. 
The  manufacturer  makes  just  the  objects  that  people 
demand.  So  long  as  you  accept  these  things,  just  so 
long  will  he  make  them.  If  all  the  women  who  com- 
plain about  the  hideous  lighting-fixtures  that  are  sold 
were  to  refuse  absolutely  to  buy  them,  a  few  years 
would  show  a  revolution  in  the  designing  of  these 
things. 

There  has  been  of  late  a  vulgar  fashion  of  having  a 
huge  mass  of  colored  glass  and  beads  suspended  from 
near-brass  chains  in  the  dining-rooms  of  certain  apart- 
ments and  houses.  These  monstrous  things  are  called 
"domes" — no  one  knows  why.  For  the  price  of  one 
of  them  you  could  buy  a  three  pronged  candlestick, 
equipped  for  electricity,  for  your  dining-room  table. 
It  is  the  sight  of  hundreds  of  these  dreadful  "domes" 
in  the  lamp  shops  that  gives  one  a  feeling  of  dis- 
couragement. The  humblest  kitchen  lamp  of  brass 
and  tin  would  be  beautiful  by  contrast. 

120 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  ARTIFICIAL  LIGHT 

When  all  is  said  and  done,  we  must  come  back  to 
wax  candles  for  the  most  beautiful  light  of  all. 
Electricity  is  the  most  efficient,  but  candlelight  is  the 
most  satisfying.  For  a  drawing-room,  or  any  formal 
room  where  a  clear  light  is  not  required,  wax  candles 
are  perfect.  There  are  still  a  few  houses  left  where 
candlesticks  are  things  of  use  and  are  not  banished  to 
the  shelves  as  curiosities.  Certainly  the  clear,  white 
light  of  electricity  seems  heaven-sent  when  one  is  dress- 
ing or  working,  but  for  between-hours,  for  the  brief 
periods  of  rest,  the  only  thing  that  rivals  the  comfort 
of  candlelight  is  the  glow  of  an  open  fire. 


121 


IX 


HALLS  AND  STAIRCASES 

IN  early  days  the  hall  was  the  large  formal  room 
in  which  the  main  business  of  the  house  was  trans- 
acted. It  played  the  part  of  court-room,  with 
the  lord  of  the  manor  as  judge.  It  was  used  for 
dining,  living,  and  for  whatever  entertainment  the 
house  afforded.  The  stairs  were  not  a  part  of  it: 
they  found  a  place  as  best  they  could.  From  the 
times  of  the  primitive  ladder  of  the  adobe  dwelling 
to  the  days  of  the  spiral  staircase  carried  up  in  the 
thickness  of  the  wall,  the  stairway  was  always  a  primi- 
tive affair,  born  of  necessity,  with  little  claim  to 
beauty. 

With  the  Renaissance  in  Italy  came  the  forerunner 
of  the  modern  entrance  hall,  with  its  accompanying 
stair.  Considerations  of  comfort  and  beauty  began 
to  be  observed.  The  Italian  staircase  grew  into  a 
magnificent  affair,  "L'escalier  d'honneur,"  and  often 
led  only  to  the  open  galleries  and  salons  de  parade  of 
the  next  floor.  I  think  the  finest  staircases  in  all  the 
world  are  in  the  Genoese  palaces.  The  grand  stair- 
case of  the  Renaissance  may  still  be  seen  in  many  fine 
Italian  palaces,  notably  in  the  Bargello  in  Florence. 
This  staircase  has  been  splendidly  reproduced  by  Mrs. 

122 


HALLS  AND  STAIRCASES 

Gardner  in  Fenway  Court,  her  Italian  palace  in 
Boston.  This  house  is,  by  the  way,  the  finest  thing  of 
its  kind  in  America.  Mrs.  Gardner  has  the  same  far- 
seeing  interest  in  the  furtherance  of  an  American  ap- 
preciation of  art  as  had  the  late  Pierpont  Morgan. 
She  has  assembled  a  magnificent  collection  of  objects 
of  art,  and  she  opens  her  house  to  the  public  occasion- 
ally and  to  artists  and  designers  frequently,  that  they 
may  have  the  advantage  of  studying  the  treasures. 

To  return  to  our  staircases:  In  France  the  inter- 
mural,  or  spiral,  staircase  was  considered  quite  splen- 
did enough  for  all  human  needs,  and  in  the  finest 
chateaux  of  the  French  Renaissance  one  finds  these 
practical  staircases.  Possibly  in  those  troublous  times 
the  French  architects  planned  for  an  aristocracy  living 
under  the  influence  of  an  inherited  tradition  of  treach- 
ery and  violence,  they  felt  more  secure  in  the  isolation 
and  ready  command  of  a  small,  narrow  staircase  where 
one  man  well  nigh  single-handed  could  keep  an  army 
at  bay.  A  large  wide  staircase  of  easy  ascent  might 
have  meant  many  uneasy  moments,  with  plots  with- 
out and  treachery  within. 

Gradually,  however,  the  old  feudal  entrance  gave 
way  to  its  sub-divisions  of  guardroom,  vestibule,  and 
salon.  England  was  last  to  capitulate,  and  in  the 
great  Tudor  houses  still  extant  one  finds  the  entrance 
door  opening  directly  into  the  Hall.  Often  in  these 
English  houses  there  was  a  screen  of  very  beautiful 
carved  wood,  behind  which  was  the  staircase.  Inigo 

123 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

Jones  introduced  the  Palladian  style  into  England, 
and  so  brought  in  the  many-storied  central  salon  which 
served  as  means  of  access  to  all  the  house.  The  old 
English  halls  and  staircases  designed  by  Inigo  Jones 
would  be  perfect  for  our  more  elaborate  American 
country  houses.  The  severe  beauty  of  English  panel- 
ing and  the  carving  of  newel-post  and  spindles  are 
having  a  just  revival.  The  pendulum  swings — and 
there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun ! 

Wooden  staircases  with  carved  wooden  balustrades 
were  used  oftenest  in  England,  while  in  the  French 
chateaux  marble  stairs  with  wrought-iron  stair-rails 
are  generally  found.  The  perfection  to  which  the  art 
of  iron  work  may  be  carried  is  familiar  to  everyone 
who  knows  the  fairy-like  iron  work  of  Jean  L' Amour 
in  the  Stanislas  Palace  at  Nancy.  This  staircase  in 
the  Hotel  de  Ville  is  supreme.  If  you  are  ever  in 
France  you  should  see  it.  It  has  been  copied  often 
by  American  architects.  Infinite  thought  and  skill 
were  brought  to  bear  on  all  the  iron  work  door- 
handles, lanterns,  and  so  forth.  The  artistic  excel- 
lence of  this  work  has  not  been  equaled  since  this 
period  of  the  Eighteenth  Century.  The  greatest  artists 
of  that  day  did  not  think  it  in  the  least  beneath  their 
dignity  and  talent  to  devote  themselves  to  designing 
the  knobs  of  doors,  the  handles  of  commodes,  the 
bronzes  for  the  decorations  of  fireplaces,  the  shaping 
of  hinges  and  locks.  They  were  careful  of  details, 
and  that  is  the  secret  of  their  supremacy.  Nowadays, 

124 


HALLS  AND  STAIRCASES 

we  may  find  a  house  with  a  beautiful  hall,  but  the 
chances  are  it  is  spoiled  by  crudely  designed  fittings. 

I  have  written  somewhat  at  length  of  the  magnifi- 
cent staircases  of  older  countries  and  older  times  than 
our  own,  because  somehow  the  subject  is  one  that  can- 
not be  considered  apart  from  its  beginnings.  All  our 
halls  and  stairs,  pretentious  or  not,  have  come  to  us 
from  these  superb  efforts  of  masterly  workmen,  and 
perhaps  that  is  why  we  feel  instinctively  that  they 
must  suggest  a  certain  formality,  and  restraint.  This 
feeling  is  indirectly  a  tribute  to  the  architects  who  gave 
us  such  notable  examples. 

We  do  not,  however,  have  to  go  abroad  for  historic 
examples  of  stately  halls  and  stairs.  There  are  fine 
old  houses  scattered  all  through  the  old  thirteen  states 
that  cannot  be  surpassed  for  dignity  and  simplicity. 

One  of  the  best  halls  in  America  is  that  of  "West- 
over,"  probably  the  most  famous  house  in  Virginia. 
This  old  house  was  built  in  1737  by  Colonel  Byrd  on 
the  James  River,  where  so  many  of  the  Colonial 
aristocrats  of  Virginia  made  their  homes.  The  plan 
of  the  hall  is  suggestive  of  an  old  English  manor 
house.  The  walls  are  beautifully  paneled  from  an 
old  English  plan.  The  turned  balusters  are  repre- 
sentative of  the  late  Seventeenth  or  early  Eighteenth 
Century.  The  fine  old  Jacobean  chairs  and  tables 
have  weathered  two  centuries,  and  are  friendly  to 
their  new  neighbors,  Oriental  rugs  older  than  them- 
selves.   The  staircase  has  two  landings,  on  the  first 

125 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

of  which  stands  an  old  Grandfather's-clock,  marking 
the  beginning  of  a  custom  that  obtains  to  this  day. 

This  hall  is  characteristic  of  American  houses  of  the 
Colonial  period,  and  indeed  of  the  average  large  coun- 
try house  of  to-day,  for  the  straightaway  hall,  cutting 
the  house  squarely  in  two,  is  so  much  a  part  of  our 
architecture  that  we  use  it  as  a  standard.  It  is  to  be 
found,  somewhat  narrower  and  lower  of  ceiling,  in 
New  England  farmhouses  and  in  Eastern  city  houses. 
The  Southern  house  of  ante-bellum  days  varied  the 
stair  occasionally  by  patterning  the  magnificent  wind- 
ing staircases  of  old  England,  but  the  long  hall  open 
at  both  ends,  and  the  long  stair,  with  one  or  two  land- 
ings, is  characteristic  of  all  old  American  houses. 

The  customary  finish  for  these  old  halls  was  a  land- 
scape wall  paper,  a  painted  wall  broken  into  panels 
by  molding,  a  high  white  wainscoting  with  white  plaster 
above,  or  possibly  a  gay  figured  paper  of  questionable 
beauty.  Mahogany  furniture  was  characteristic  of 
all  these  halls — a  grandfather's-clock,  a  turn-top  table, 
a  number  of  dignified  chairs,  and  a  quaint  old  mirror. 
Sometimes  there  was  a  fireplace,  but  oftener  there  were 
doors  opening  evenly  into  various  rooms  of  the  first 
floor.  These  things  are  irreproachable  to-day.  Why 
did  we  have  to  go  through  the  period  of  the  walnut  hat- 
rack  and  shiny  oak  hall  furniture,  only  to  return 
to  our  simplicities^ 

When  I  planned  the  main  hall  of  the  Colony  Club 
I  determined  to  make  it  very  Colonial,  very  American, 

126 


THE  STAIRCASE  IN  THE  BAYARD  THAYER  HOUSE 


HALLS  AND  STAIRCASES 

very  inviting  and  comfortable,  the  sort  of  hall  you 
like  to  remember  having  seen  in  an  old  Virginia  house. 
One  enters  from  the  street  into  a  narrow  hall  that  soon 
broadens  into  a  spacious  and  lofty  living-hall.  The 
walls  are,  of  course,  white,  the  paneled  spaces  being 
broken  by  quaint  old  Colonial  mirrors  and  appropriate 
lighting-fixtures.  There  is  a  great  fireplace  at  one  end 
of  the  hall,  with  a  deep,  chintz-covered  davenport 
before  it.  There  are  also  roomy  chairs  covered  with 
the  same  delightful  chintz,  a  green  and  white  glazed 
English  chintz  that  is  as  serviceable  as  it  is  beautiful. 
Besides  the  chintz-covered  chairs,  there  are  two  old 
English  chairs  covered  with  English  needlework. 
These  chairs  are  among  the  treasures  of  the  Club. 
There  are  several  long  mahogany  tables,  and  many 
small  tea  tables.  The  rugs  are  of  a  spring  green — I 
can  think  of  no  better  name  for  it. 

In  modern  English  and  American  houses  of  the 
smaller  class  the  staircase  is  a  part  of  an  elongated 
entrance  hall,  and  there  is  often  no  vestibule.  In 
many  of  the  more  important  new  houses  the  stairs  are 
divided  from  the  entrance  hall,  so  that  one  staircase 
will  do  for  the  servants,  family  and  all,  and  the 
privacy  of  the  entrance  hall  will  be  secured.  In  my 
own  house  in  New  York,  you  enter  the  square  hall 
directly,  and  the  staircase  is  in  a  second  hall.  This 
entrance  hall  is  a  real  breathing-space,  affording  the 
visitor  a  few  moments  of  rest  and  calm  after  the 
crowded  streets  of  the  city.    The  hall  is  quite  large, 

129 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

with  a  color-plan  of  black  and  white  and  dark  green. 
You  will  find  a  description  of  this  hall  in  another 
chapter.  I  have  used  this  same  plan  in  many  other 
city  houses,  with  individual  variations,  of  course. 
The  serene  quality  of  such  a  hall  is  very  valuable  in 
the  city.  If  you  introduced  a  lot  of  furniture  the 
whole  thing  would  be  spoiled. 

I  used  an  old  porcelain  stove,  creamy  and  iridescent 
in  glaze,  in  such  a  hall  in  an  uptown  house  very  simi- 
lar to  my  own.  The  stove  is  very  beautiful  in  itself, 
but  it  was  used  for  use  as  well  as  beauty.  It  really 
holds  a  fire  and  furnishes  an  even  heat.  The  stove 
was  flanked  by  two  pedestals  surmounted  with  baskets 
spilling  over  with  fruits,  carved  from  wood  and  gilded 
and  painted  in  polychrome.  Everything  in  this  hall 
is  arranged  with  precision  of  balance.  The  stove  is 
flanked  by  two  pedestals.  The  niche  that  holds  the 
stove  and  the  corresponding  niche  on  the  other  wall, 
which  holds  a  statue,  are  flanked  by  narrow  panels 
holding  lighting-fixtures.  The  street  wall  is  broken  by 
doors  and  its  two  flanking  windows.  The  opposite 
wall  has  a  large  central  panel  flanked  by  two  glass 
doors,  one  leading  to  the  stairway  and  the  other  to  a 
closet,  beneath  it.  Everything  is  "paired,"  with  re- 
sulting effect  of  great  formality  and  restraint.  Very 
little  furniture  is  required :  A  table  to  hold  cards  and 
notes,  two  low  benches,  and  a  wrought  iron  stand  for 
umbrellas.  The  windows  have  curtains  of  Italian 
linen,  coarse  homespun  stuff  that  is  very  lovely  with 

130 


HALLS  AND  STAIRCASES 

white  walls  and  woodwork.  There  are  no  pictures  on 
the  wall,  but  there  are  specially  designed  lighting-fix- 
tures in  the  small  panels  that  frame  the  niches. 

In  several  of  the  finer  houses  that  have  been  built 
recently,  notably  that  of  Mrs.  O.  H.  P.  Belmont,  the 
staircase  is  enclosed,  and  is  in  no  way  an  architectural 
feature,  merely  a  possible  means  of  communication 
when  needed.  This  solution  of  the  staircase  problem 
has  no  doubt  brought  about  our  modern  luxury  of  ele- 
vators. In  another  fine  private  house  recently  built 
the  grand  staircase  only  goes  so  far  as  the  formal  rooms 
of  the  second  floor,  and  a  small  iron  staircase  enclosed 
in  the  wall  leads  to  the  intimate  family  rooms  of  the 
bedroom  floor.  The  advantage  of  this  gain  in  space 
can  easily  be  appreciated.  All  the  room  usually  taken 
up  by  the  large  wall  of  the  staircase  halls,  and  so  forth, 
can  be  thrown  into  the  bedrooms  upstairs. 

The  illustrations  of  the  Bayard  Thayer  hall  and 
staircase  speak  for  themselves.  Here  lighting-fixtures, 
locks,  hinges,  have  been  carefully  planned,  so  that  the 
smallest  part  is  worthy  of  the  whole.  This  hall  is 
representative  of  the  finer  private  houses  that  are  being 
built  in  America  to-day.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  work- 
ing with  the  architect  and  the  owners  here,  and  so  was 
able  to  fit  the  decorations  and  furnishings  of  the  hall 
to  the  house  and  to  the  requirements  of  the  people  who 
live  in  it. 

The  present  tendency  of  people  who  build  small 
houses  is  to  make  a  living-room  of  the  hall.    I  am  not 

131 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

in  favor  of  this.  I  think  the  hall  should  be  much  more 
formal  than  the  rest  of  the  house.  It  is,  after  all,  of 
public  access,  not  only  to  the  living-rooms  but  to  the 
street.  The  servant  who  answers  the  front  door  must 
of  necessity  constantly  traverse  it,  so  must  anyone — 
the  guest  or  tradesman— admitted  to  the  house.  The 
furniture  should  be  severe  and  architectural  in  design. 
A  column  or  pedestal  surmounted  with  a  statue,  a  foun- 
tain, an  old  chest  to  hold  carriage-rugs,  a  carved  bench, 
a  good  table,  a  standing  desk,  may  be  used  in  a  large 
house.  Nothing  more  is  admissible.  In  a  small  house 
a  well-shaped  table,  a  bench  or  so,  possibly  a  wall  clock, 
will  be  all  that  is  necessary.  The  wall  should  be  plain 
in  treatment.  The  stair  carpet  should  be  plain  in  color. 
The  floor  should  be  bare,  if  in  good  condition,  with 
just  a  small  rug  for  softness  at  the  door.  A  tiled  floor 
is  especially  beautiful  in  a  hall,  if  you  can  afford  it. 

If  your  house  happens  to  have  the  hall  and  living- 
room  combined,  and  no  vestibule,  you  can  place  a 
large  screen  near  the  entrance  door  and  obtain  a  little 
more  privacy.  A  standing  screen  of  wooden  panels  is 
better  than  a  folding  screen,  for  the  folding  screen  is 
rarely  well-built,  and  will  be  blown  down  by  the  draft 
of  the  open  door.  A  standing  screen  may  be  made  by 
any  carpenter,  and  painted  or  stained  to  match  the 
woodwork  of  the  room.  A  straight  bench  or  settle 
placed  against  it  will  make  the  screened  space  seem 
more  like  a  vestibule. 

Another  objection  to  the  staircase  leading  from  the 

132 


HALLS  AND  STAIRCASES 

living-room  of  a  small  house  is  that  such  an  arrange- 
ment makes  it  almost  impossible  to  heat  the  house 
properly  in  winter.  I  have  seen  so  many  bewildered 
people  whose  spacious  doorless  downstairs  rooms  were 
a  joy  in  summer,  shivering  all  winter  long  in  a  polar 
atmosphere.  The  stair  well  seems  to  suck  all  the 
warmth  from  the  living-room,  and  coal  bills  soar. 

Above  all,  don't  try  to  make  your  hall  "pretty." 
Remember  that  a  hall  is  not  a  living-room,  but  a 
thoroughfare  open  and  used  by  all  the  dwellers  in  the 
house.  Don't  be  afraid  of  your  halls  and  stairs  look- 
ing "cold."  It  is  a  good  idea  to  have  one  small  space 
in  your  house  where  you  can  go  and  sit  down  and  be 
calm  and  cool !  You  can't  keep  the  rest  of  the  house 
severe  and  cool  looking,  but  here  it  is  eminently  ap- 
propriate and  sensible.  The  visitor  who  enters  a  white 
and  green  hall  and  gets  an  effect  of  real  reserve  and 
coolness  is  all  the  more  appreciative  of  the  warmth  and 
intimacy  of  the  living-rooms  of  the  house. 

After  all,  for  simple  American  houses  there  is  noth- 
ing better  than  a  staightaway  staircase  of  broad  and 
easy  treads,  with  one  or  two  landings.  There  may  be 
a  broad  landing  with  a  window  and  window-seat,  if 
there  is  a  real  view,  but  the  landing-seat  that  is  built 
for  no  especial  purpose  is  worse  than  useless.  It  is  not 
at  all  necessary  to  have  the  stairs  carpeted,  if  the  treads 
are  broad  enough,  and  turned  balusters  painted  white 
with  a  mahogany  hand  rail  are  in  scheme.  Such  a 
staircase  adds  much  to  the  home-quality  of  a  house. 

133 


X 


THE  DRAWING-ROOM 

A DRAWING-ROOM  is  the  logical  place  for 
the  elegancies  of  family  life.  The  ideal 
drawing-room,  to  my  mind,  contains  many 
comfortable  chairs  and  sofas,  many  softly  shaded  lights 
by  night,  and  plenty  of  sunshine  by  day,  well-balanced 
mirrors  set  in  simple  paneled  walls,  and  any  number  of 
small  tables  that  may  be  brought  out  into  the  room 
if  need  be,  and  an  open  fire. 

The  old  idea  of  the  drawing-room  was  a  horrible 
apartment  of  stiffness  and  formality  and  discomfort. 
No  wonder  it  was  used  only  for  weddings  and  funerals ! 
The  modern  drawing-room  is  intended,  primarily,  as  a 
place  where  a  hostess  may  entertain  her  friends,  and  it 
must  not  be  chill  and  uninviting,  whatever  else  it  may 
be.  It  should  not  be  littered  up  with  personal  things 
— magazines,  books  and  work-baskets  and  objects  that 
belong  in  the  living-room — but  it  welcomes  flowers 
and  objets  d'art^  collections  of  fans,  or  miniatures,  or 
graceful  mirrors,  or  old  French  prints,  or  enamels,  or 
porcelains.  It  should  be  a  place  where  people  may 
converse  without  interruption  from  the  children. 

Most  houses,  even  of  the  smaller  sort,  have  three 
day  rooms — the  dining-room,  the  parlor  and  the  sit- 

134 


THE  DRAWING-ROOM 

ting-room,  as  they  are  usually  called.  People  who  ap- 
preciate more  and  more  the  joy  of  living  have  pulled 
hall  and  sitting-room  together  into  one  great  family 
meeting  place,  leaving  a  small  vestibule,  decreased  the 
size  of  the  dining-room  and  built  in  many  windows, 
so  that  it  becomes  almost  an  outdoor  room,  and  given 
the  parlor  a  little  more  dignity  and  serenity  and  its 
right  name — the  drawing-room. 

We  use  the  terms  drawing-room  and  salon  inter- 
changeably in  America — though  we  are  a  bit  more 
timid  of  the  salon — but  there  is  a  subtle  difference  be- 
tween the  two  that  is  worth  noting.  The  withdrawing 
room  of  old  England  was  the  quiet  room  to  which  the 
ladies  retired,  leaving  their  lords  to  the  freer  pleasures 
of  the  great  hall.  Indeed,  the  room  began  as  a  part 
of  my  lady's  bedroom,  but  gradually  came  into  its 
proper  importance  and  took  on  a  magnificence  all  its 
own.  The  salon  of  France  also  began  as  a  part  of 
the  great  hall,  or  grande  salle.  Then  came  the  need  for 
an  apartment  for  receiving  and  so  the  great  bed  cham- 
ber was  divided  into  two  parts,  one  a  real  sleeping- 
room  and  the  other  a  chambre  de  "parade ',  with  a  great 
state  bed  for  the  occasional  visitors  of  great  position. 
The  great  bed,  or  lit  de  parade,  was  representative  of 
all  the  salons  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIII.  Gradually 
the  owners  of  the  more  magnificent  houses  saw  the  op- 
portunity for  a  series  of  salons,  and  so  the  state  apart- 
ment was  divided  into  two  parts:  a  salon  de  famille, 
which  afforded  the  family  a  certain  privacy,  and  the 

135 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

salon  de  compagme,  which  was  sacred  to  a  magnificent 
hospitality.  And  so  the  salon  expanded  until  nowa- 
days we  use  the  word  with  awe,  and  appreciate  its  im- 
plication of  brilliant  conversation  and  exquisite  decora- 
tion, of  a  radiant  hostess,  an  amusing  and  distinguished 
circle  of  people.  The  word  has  a  graciousness,  a  chal- 
lenge that  we  fear.  If  we  have  not  just  the  right 
house  we  should  not  dare  risk  belittling  our  pleasant 
drawing-room  by  dubbing  it  "salon."  In  short,  a 
drawing-room  may  be  a  part  of  any  well  regulated 
house.  A  salon  is  largely  a  matter  of  spirit  and  clever- 
ness. 

A  drawing-room  has  no  place  in  the  house  where 
there  is  no  other  living-room.  Indeed,  if  there  are 
many  children,  and  the  house  is  of  moderate  size,  I 
think  a  number  of  small  day  rooms  are  vastly  better 
than  the  two  usual  rooms,  living-room  and  drawing- 
room,  because  only  in  this  way  can  the  various  mem- 
bers of  the  family  have  a  chance  at  any  privacy.  The 
one  large  room  so  necessary  for  the  gala  occasions  of  a 
large  family  may  be  the  dining-room,  for  here  it  will 
be  easy  to  push  back  tables  and  chairs  for  the  occasion. 
If  the  children  have  a  nursery,  and  mother  has  a  small 
sitting-room,  and  father  has  a  little  room  for  books 
and  writing,  a  living-room  may  be  eliminated  in  favor 
of  a  small  formal  room  for  visitors  and  talk. 

No  matter  how  large  your  drawing-room  may  be, 
keep  it  intimate  in  spirit.  There  should  be  a  dozen 
conversation  centers  in  a  large  room.    There  should 

136 


THE  DRAWING-ROOM 

be  one  or  more  sofas,  with  comfortable  chairs  pulled 
up  beside  them.  No  one  chair  should  be  isolated,  for 
some  bashful  person  who  doesn't  talk  well  anyway 
is  sure  to  take  the  most  remote  chair  and  make  herself 
miserable.  I  have  seen  a  shy  young  woman  com- 
pletely changed  because  she  happened  to  sit  upon  a 
certain  deep  cushioned  sofa  of  rose-colored  damask. 
Whether  it  was  the  rose  color,  or  the  enforced  relaxa- 
tion the  sofa  induced,  or  the  proximity  of  some  very 
charming  people  in  comfortable  chairs  beside  her,  or 
all  of  these  things — I  don't  know!  But  she  found 
herself.  She  found  herself  gay  and  happy  and  una- 
fraid. I  am  sure  her  personality  flowered  from  that 
hour  on.  If  she  had  been  left  to  herself  she  would 
have  taken  a  stiff  chair  in  a  far  corner,  and  she  would 
have  been  miserable  and  self-conscious.  I  believe  most 
firmly  in  the  magic  power  of  inanimate  objects! 

Don't  litter  your  drawing-room  with  bric-a-brac. 
Who  has  n't  seen  what  I  can  best  describe  as  a  souvenir 
drawing-room,  a  room  filled  with  curiosities  from 
everywhere!  I  shall  never  forget  doing  a  drawing- 
room  for  a  woman  of  no  taste.  I  persuaded  her  to  put 
away  her  heavy  velvets  and  gilt  fringes  and  to  have 
one  light  and  spacious  room  in  the  house.  She  agreed. 
We  worked  out  a  chintz  drawing-room  that  was  deli- 
cious. I  was  very  happy  over  it  and  you  can  imagine 
my  amazement  when  she  came  to  me  and  said,  "But 
Miss  de  Wolfe,  what  am  I  to  do  with  my  blue  satin 
tidies'?" 

139 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

In  my  own  drawing-room  I  have  so  many  objects  of 
art,  and  yet  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  the 
room  has  a  great  serenity.  Over  the  little  desk  in  one 
corner  I  have  my  collection  of  old  miniatures  and  fans 
of  the  golden  days  of  the  French  court.  There  are 
ever  so  many  vases  and  bowls  for  flowers,  but  they  are 
used.  There  are  dozens  of  lighting-fixtures,  brackets, 
and  lamps,  and  a  chandelier,  and  many  candlesticks, 
and  they  are  used,  also.  Somehow,  when  a  beautiful 
object  becomes  a  useful  object,  it  takes  its  place  in  the 
general  scheme  of  things  and  does  not  disturb  the 
eye. 

The  ideal  drawing-room  has  a  real  fireplace,  with  a 
wood  fire  when  there  is  excuse  for  it.  An  open  fire  is 
almost  as  great  an  attribute  to  a  drawing-room  as  a 
tactful  hostess ;  it  puts  you  at  ease,  instantly,  and  gives 
you  poise.  And  just  as  an  open  fire  and  sunshine  make 
for  ease,  so  do  well  placed  mirrors  make  for  elegance. 
Use  your  mirrors  as  decorative  panels,  not  only  for  the 
purpose  of  looking  at  yourself  in  them,  and  you  will 
multiply  the  pleasures  of  your  room.  I  have  the  wall 
space  between  mantel  and  frieze-line  filled  with  a 
large  mirror,  in  my  New  York  drawing-room,  and  the 
two  narrow  panels  between  the  front  windows  are 
filled  with  long  narrow  mirrors  that  reflect  the  color 
and  charm  of  the  room.  Whenever  you  can  manage 
it,  place  your  mirror  so  that  it  will  reflect  some  particu- 
larly nice  object. 

Given  plenty  of  chairs  and  sofas,  and  a  few  small 

140 


THE  DRAWING-ROOM 

tables  to  hold  lights  and  flowers,  you  will  need  very 
little  other  furniture  in  the  drawing-room.  You  will 
need  a  writing-table,  but  a  very  small  and  orderly  one. 
The  drawing  room  desk  may  be  very  elegant  in  design 
and  equipment,  for  it  must  be  a  part  of  the  decoration 
of  the  room,  and  it  must  be  always  immaculate  for  the 
visitor  who  wants  to  write  a  note.  The  members  of 
the  family  are  supposed  to  use  their  own  desks,  leaving 
this  one  for  social  emergencies.  A  good  desk  is  a  god- 
send in  a  drawing-room,  it  makes  a  room  that  is  usually 
cold  and  formal  at  once  more  livable  and  more  inti- 
mate. In  my  own  drawing-room  I  have  a  small  French 
writing-table  placed  near  a  window,  so  that  the  light 
falls  over  one's  left  shoulder.  The  small  black  lacquer 
desks  that  are  now  being  reproduced  from  old  models 
would  be  excellent  desks  for  drawing-rooms,  because 
they  not  only  offer  service,  as  all  furniture  should,  but 
are  beautiful  in  themselves.  Many  of  the  small  tables 
of  walnut  and  mahogany  that  are  sold  as  dressing-tables 
might  be  used  as  writing-tables  in  formal  rooms,  if  the 
mirrors  were  eliminated. 

There  is  a  great  difference  in  opinion  as  to  the  plac- 
ing of  the  piano  in  the  drawing-room.  I  think  it  be- 
longs in  the  living-room,  if  it  is  in  constant  use,  though 
of  course  it  is  very  convenient  to  have  it  near  by  the  one 
big  room,  be  it  drawing-room  or  dining-room,  when  a 
small  dance  is  planned.  I  am  going  to  admit  that  in 
my  opinion  there  is  nothing  more  abused  than  the 
piano,  I  have  no  piano  in  my  own  house  in  New  York. 

141 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

I  love  music — but  I  am  not  a  musician,  and  so  I  do 
not  expose  myself  to  the  merciless  banging  of  chance 
callers.  Besides,  my  house  is  quite  small  and  a  good 
piano  would  dwarf  the  other  furnishings  of  my  rooms. 
I  think  pianos  are  for  musicians,  not  strummers,  who 
spoil  all  chance  for  any  real  conversation.  If  you  are 
fortunate  enough  to  have  a  musician  in  your  family, 
that  is  different.  Go  ahead  and  give  him  a  music 
room.  Musicians  are  not  born  every  day,  but  lovers 
of  music  are  everywhere,  and  I  for  one  am  heartily  in 
favor  of  doing  away  with  the  old  custom  of  teaching 
every  child  to  bang  a  little,  and  instead,  teaching  him 
to  listen  to  music.  Oh,  the  crimes  that  are  committed 
against  music  in  American  parlors !  I  prefer  the  good 
mechanical  cabinet  that  offers  us  "canned"  music  to 
the  manual  exercise  of  people  who  insist  on  playing 
wherever  they  see  an  open  piano.  Of  course  the  me- 
chanical instrument  is  new,  and  therefore,  subject  to 
much  criticism  from  a  decorative  standpoint,  but  the 
music  is  much  better  than  the  amateur's.  We  are  still 
turning  up  our  noses  a  little  at  the  mechanical  piano 
players,  but  if  we  will  use  our  common  sense  we  must 
admit  that  a  new  order  of  things  has  come  to  pass,  and 
the  new  "canned"  music  is  not  to  be  despised.  Cer- 
tainly if  the  instrument  displeases  you,  you  can  say 
so,  but  if  a  misguided  friend  elects  to  strum  on  your 
piano  you  are  helpless.  So  I  have  no  piano  in  my 
New  York  house.  I  have  a  cabinet  of  "canned"  music 
that  can  be  turned  on  for  small  dances  when  need  be, 

142 


THE  DRAWING-ROOM 

and  that  can  be  hidden  in  a  closet  between  times. 
Why  not? 

But  suppose  you  have  a  piano,  or  need  one :  do  give 
it  a  chance!  Its  very  size  makes  it  tremendously  im- 
portant, and  if  you  load  it  with  senseless  fringed  scarfs 
and  bric-a-brac  you  make  it  the  ugliest  thing  in  your 
room.  Give  it  the  best  place  possible,  against  an  in- 
side wall,  preferably.  I  saw  a  new  house  lately  where 
the  placing  of  the  piano  had  been  considered  by  the 
architect  when  the  house  was  planned.  There  was  a 
mezzanine  floor  overhanging  the  great  living-room, 
and  one  end  of  this  had  been  made  into  a  piano  alcove, 
a  sort  of  modern  minstrel  gallery.  The  musician  who 
used  the  piano  was  very  happy,  for  your  real  musician 
loves  a  certain  solitude,  and  those  of  us  who  listened 
to  his  music  in  the  great  room  below  were  happy  be- 
cause the  maker  of  the  music  was  far  enough  away 
from  us.  We  could  appreciate  the  music  and  forget 
the  mechanics  of  it.  For  a  concert,  or  a  small  dance, 
this  balcony  music-room  would  be  most  convenient. 
Another  good  place  for  the  piano  is  a  sort  of  alcove,  or 
small  room  opening  from  the  large  living  or  drawing- 
room,  where  the  piano  and  a  few  chairs  may  be  placed. 
Of  course  if  you  are  to  have  a  real  music-room,  then 
there  are  great  possibilities. 

A  piano  may  be  a  princely  thing,  properly  built  and 
decorated.  The  old  spinets  and  harpsichords,  with 
their  charming  inlaid  cases,  were  beautiful,  but  they 
gave  forth  only  tinkly  sounds.    Now  we  have  a  mag- 

H5 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

nificent  mechanism,  but  the  case  which  encloses  it  is 
too  often  hideous. 

There  is  an  old  double-banked  harpsichord  of  the 
early  Eighteenth  Century  in  the  Morgan  collection  at 
the  Metropolitan  Museum  that  would  be  a  fine  form 
for  a  piano,  if  it  would  hold  the  "works."  It  is 
long  and  narrow,  fitting  against  the  wall  so  that  it 
really  takes  up  very  little  room.  The  case  is  painted 
a  soft  dark  gray  and  outlined  in  darker  gray,  and  the 
panels  and  the  long  top  are  in  soft  colors.  The  legs 
are  carved  and  pointed  in  polychrome.  This  harpsi- 
chord was  made  when  the  beauty  of  an  object  was  of 
as  real  importance  as  the  mechanical  perfection. 

Occasionally  one  sees  a  modern  piano  that  has  been 
decorated  by  an  artist.  Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones,  Sir 
Alma  Tadema,  and  many  of  the  other  English  artists 
of  our  generation  have  made  beautiful  pianos.  Sir 
Robert  Lorimer  recently  designed  a  piano  that  was 
decorated,  inside  and  out,  by  Mrs.  Traquair.  From 
time  to  time  a  great  artist  interests  himself  in  design- 
ing and  decorating  a  piano,  but  the  rank  and  file,  when 
they  decide  to  build  an  extraordinary  piano,  achieve 
lumpy  masses  of  wood  covered  with  impossible  nymphs 
and  too-realistic  flowers,  pianos  suggestive  of  thin  and 
sentimental  tunes,  but  never  of  music. 

When  you  are  furnishing  your  music-room  or  draw- 
ing-room, be  careful  always  of  your  colors.  Remem- 
ber that  not  only  must  the  room  be  beautiful  in  its 
broad  spaces  and  long  lines  and  soft  colors,  but  it  must 

146 


THE  DRAWING-ROOM 

be  a  background  for  the  gala  gowns  of  women.  I  once 
saw  a  music-room  that  was  deliberately  planned  as  a 
background  to  the  gay  colors  of  women's  gowns  and 
the  heavy  black  masses  of  men's  evening  clothes,  a 
soft  shimmering  green  and  cream  room  that  was  in- 
complete and  cold  when  empty  of  the  color  of  costume. 
Such  a  room  must  have  an  architectural  flavor.  The 
keynote  must  be  elegant  simplicity  and  aristocratic 
reserve.  Walls  broken  into  panels,  and  panels  in 
turn  broken  by  lighting-fixtures,  a  polished  floor,  a 
well-considered  ceiling,  any  number  of  chairs,  and  the 
room  is  furnished.  This  room,  indeed,  may  evolve 
into  a  salon. 


147 


XI 


THE  LIVING-ROOM 

THE  living-room!    Shut  your  eyes  a  minute 
and  think  what  that  means :    A  room  to  live 
in,  suited  to  all  human  needs  ;  to  be  sick  or 
sorry  or  glad  in,  as  the  day's  happenings  may  be; 
where  one  may  come  back  from  far-reaching  ways,  for 
"East  or  West,  Hame 's  best." 

Listen  a  minute  while  I  tell  you  how  I  see  such  a 
room:  Big  and  restful,  making  for  comfort  first  and 
always;  a  little  shabby  here  and  there,  perhaps,  but 
all  the  more  satisfactory  for  that — like  an  old  shoe 
that  goes  on  easily.  Lots  of  light  by  night,  and  not 
too  much  drapery  to  shut  out  the  sunlight  by  day. 
Big,  welcoming  chairs,  rather  sprawly,  and  long  sofas. 
A  big  fire  blazing  on  the  open  hearth.  Perhaps,  if  we 
are  very  lucky  we  may  have  some  old  logs  from  long 
since  foundered  ships,  that  will  flame  blue  and  rose  and 
green.  He  must  indeed  be  of  a  poor  spirit  who  can- 
not call  all  sorts  of  visions  from  such  a  flame ! 

There  should  be  a  certain  amount  of  order,  because 
you  cannot  really  rest  in  a  disorderly  place,  but  there 
should  be  none  of  the  formality  of  the  drawing-room. 
Formality  should  be  used  as  a  sort  of  foundation  on 
which  the  pleasant  workaday  business  of  the  living- 

148 


THE  LIVING-ROOM 

room  is  planned.  The  living-room  should  always  have 
a  flavor  of  the  main  hobby  of  the  family,  whether  it  be 
books,  or  music,  or  sport,  or  what  not.  If  you  live  in 
the  real  country  there  should  be  nothing  in  the  room 
too  good  for  all  moods  and  all  weather — no  need  to 
think  of  muddy  boots  or  wet  riding-clothes  or  the  dogs 
that  have  run  through  the  dripping  fields. 

I  wonder  if  half  the  fathers  and  mothers  in  creation 
know  just  what  it  means  later  on  to  the  boys  and  girls 
going  out  from  their  roof -tree  to  have  the  memory  of 
such  a  living-room4? 

A  living-room  may  be  a  simple  place  used  for  all 
the  purposes  of  living,  or  it  may  be  merely  an  official 
clearing-house  for  family  moods,  one  of  a  dozen  other 
living  apartments.  The  living-room  in  the  modern 
bungalow,  for  instance,  is  often  dining-room,  library, 
hall,  music-room,  filling  all  the  needs  of  the  family, 
while  in  a  large  country  or  city  house  there  may  be 
the  central  family  room,  and  ever  so  many  little  rooms 
that  grow  out  of  the  overflow  needs — the  writing-room, 
the  tea  room  that  is  also  sun  and  breakfast  room,  the 
music-room  and  the  library.  In  more  elaborate  houses 
there  are  also  the  great  hall,  the  formal  drawing-room 
and  music-room,  and  the  intimate  boudoir.  To  all 
these  should  be  given  a  goodly  measure  of  comfort. 

Whether  it  be  one  or  a  dozen  rooms,  the  spirit  of 
it  must  be  the  same — it  must  offer  comfort,  order,  and 
beauty  to  be  worth  living  in. 

Just  as  when  a  large  family  is  to  be  considered  I  be- 

151 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

lieve  in  one  big  meeting-room  and  a  number  of  smaller 
rooms  for  special  purposes,  so  I  believe  that  when  a 
family  is  very  small  there  should  be  one  great  living- 
room  and  no  other  day  room.  Two  young  people  who 
purpose  to  live  in  a  small  cottage  or  a  bungalow  will 
be  wise  to  have  this  one  big  room  that  will  serve  for 
dining-room,  living-room,  and  all.  The  same  house 
divided  into  a  number  of  tiny  rooms  would  suffocate 
them :  there  would  be  no  breathing-space.  In  furnish- 
ing such  a  room  it  is  well  to  beware  of  sets  of  things: 
of  six  dining-room  chairs,  of  the  conventional  dining- 
table,  serving-table,  and  china  closet.  I  advocate  the 
use  of  a  long  table — four  by  seven  feet  is  not  too  long 
— and  a  number  of  good  chairs  that  are  alike  in  style, 
but  not  exactly  alike. 

The  chairs  should  not  be  the  conventional  dining- 
chairs.  The  idea  that  the  only  dining-room  chair  possi- 
ble is  a  perfectly  straight  up  and  down  stiff-backed 
chair  is  absurd.  In  a  large  house  where  there  is  a  fam- 
ily dining-room  the  chairs  should  be  alike,  but  in  an  in- 
formal living-room  the  chairs  may  be  perfectly  comfor- 
table and  useful  between  meals  and  serve  the  purposes 
of  dining-room  chairs  when  necessary.  For  instance, 
with  a  long  oak  table  built  on  the  lines  of  the  old 
English  refectory  tables  you  might  have  a  long  bench 
of  oak  and  cane;  a  large  high  back  chair  with  arms  of 
the  Stuart  order,  that  is,  with  graceful,  turned  legs, 
carved  frame  work,  and  cane  insets;  two  Cromwellian 
chairs  covered  in  some  good  stuff;  and  two  or  three 

152 


THE  LIVING-ROOM 

straight  oak-and-cane  chairs  of  a  simple  type.  These 
chairs  may  be  used  for  various  purposes  between  meals, 
and  will  not  give  the  room  the  stiff  and  formal  air  that 
straight-backed  chairs  invariably  produce.  One  could 
imagine  this  table  drawn  up  to  a  window-seat,  with 
bench  and  chairs  beside  it,  and  a  dozen  cheerful  people 
around  it.  There  will  be  little  chance  of  stiffness  at 
such  a  dining-table. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  when  a  part  of  the 
living-room  is  used  for  meals,  the  things  that  suggest 
dining  should  be  kept  out  of  sight  between  meals.  All 
the  china  and  so  forth  should  be  kept  in  the  pantry 
or  in  kitchen  cupboards.  The  table  may  be  left  bare 
between  meals. 

In  a  room  of  this  kind  the  furniture  should  be  kept 
close  to  the  walls,  leaving  all  the  space  possible  for 
moving  around  in  the  center  of  the  room.  The  book 
shelves  should  be  flat  against  the  wall ;  there  should  be 
a  desk,  not  too  clumsy  in  build  near  the  book  shelves 
or  at  right  angles  to  some  window;  there  should  be  a 
sofa  of  some  kind  near  the  fireplace  with  a  small  table 
at  the  head  of  it,  which  may  be  used  for  tea  or  books 
or  what  not.  If  there  is  a  piano,  it  should  be  very 
carefully  placed  so  that  it  will  not  dominate  the  room, 
and  so  that  the  people  who  will  listen  to  the  music 
may  gather  in  the  opposite  corner  of  the  room.  Of 
course,  a  living-room  of  this  kind  is  the  j  oiliest  place 
in  the  world  when  things  go  smoothly,  but  there  are 
times  when  a  little  room  is  a  very  necessary  place  to 

153 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

retreat.  This  little  room  may  be  the  study,  library, 
or  a  tea  room,  but  it  is  worth  while  sacrificing  your 
smallest  bedroom  in  order  to  have  one  small  place  of 
retreat. 

If  you  can  have  a  number  of  living-rooms,  you  can 
follow  more  definite  schemes  of  decoration.  If  you 
have  a  little  enclosed  piazza  you  can  make  a  breakfast 
room  or  a  trellis  room  of  it,  or  by  bringing  in  many 
shelves  and  filling  them  with  flowers  you  can  make  the 
place  a  delightful  little  flower  box  of  a  room  for  tea 
and  talk. 

Of  course,  if  you  live  in  the  real  country  you  will  be 
able  to  use  your  garden  and  your  verandas  as  additional 
living-rooms.  With  a  big  living-porch,  the  one  in- 
door living-room  may  become  a  quiet  library,  for  in- 
stance. But  if  you  have  n't  a  garden  or  a  sunroom, 
you  should  do  all  in  your  power  to  bring  the  sunshine 
and  gaiety  into  the  living-room,  and  take  your  books 
and  quiet  elsewhere.  A  library  eight  by  ten  feet,  with 
shelves  all  the  way  around  and  up  and  down,  and  two 
comfortable  chairs,  and  one  or  two  windows,  will  be  a 
most  satisfactory  library.  If  the  room  is  to  be  used 
for  reading  smallness  does  n't  matter,  you  see. 

We  Americans  love  books — popular  books! — -and 
we  have  had  sense  enough  to  bring  them  into  our  liv- 
ing-rooms, and  enjoy  them.  But  when  you  begin  call- 
ing a  room  a  library  it  should  mean  something  more 
than  a  small  mahogany  bookcase  with  a  hundred  vol- 
umes hidden  behind  glass  doors.   I  think  there  is  nothing 

154 


THE  LIVING-ROOM 

more  amusing  than  the  unused  library  of  the  nouveau 
riche,  the  pretentious  room  with  its  monumental  book- 
cases and  its  slick  area  of  glass  doors  and  its  thousands 
of  unread  volumes,  caged  eternally  in  their  indecent 
newness. 

Some  day  when  you  have  nothing  better  to  do 
visit  the  de  luxe  book  shops  of  some  department 
store,  and  then  visit  a  dusky  old  second  hand  shop,  and 
you  will  see  what  books  can  do !  In  the  de  luxe  shop 
they  are  leathern  covered  things,  gaudy  and  snobbish 
in  their  newness.  In  the  old  book  shop  they  are  books 
that  have  lived,  books  that  invite  you  to  browse. 
You  'd  rather  have  them  with  all  their  germs  and  dust 
than  the  soulless  tomes  of  uncut  pages.  You  can  judge 
people  pretty  well  by  their  books,  and  the  wear  and 
tear  of  them. 

Open  shelves  are  good  enough  for  any  house  in  these 
days  of  vacuum  cleaners.  In  the  Bayard  Thayer  house 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  furnishing  a  wonderful  library 
of  superb  paneled  walls  of  mahogany  of  a  velvety  soft- 
ness, not  the  bright  red  wood  of  commerce.  The  open 
bookshelves  were  architecturally  planned,  they  rilled 
shallow  recesses  in  the  wall,  and  when  the  books  were 
placed  upon  them  they  formed  a  glowing  tapestry  of 
bindings,  flush  with  the  main  wall. 

I  think  the  nicest  living-room  I  know  is  the  reading 
room  of  the  Colony  Club.  I  never  enjoyed  making  a 
room  more,  and  when  the  Club  was  first  opened  I  was 
delighted  to  hear  one  woman  remark  to  another: 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

"Does  n't  it  make  you  feel  that  it  has  been  loved  and 
lived  in  for  years  ?" 

The  room  is  large  and  almost  square.  The  walls 
are  paneled  in  cream  and  white,  with  the  classic  man- 
tel and  mirror  treatment  of  the  Adam  period.  The 
large  carpet  rug  is  of  one  tone,  a  soft  green  blue.  The 
bookcases  which  run  around  the  walls  are  of  mahog- 
any, as  are  the  small,  occasional  tables,  and  the  large 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room.  In  this  room  I  have 
successfully  exploded  the  old  theory  that  all  furniture 
in  a  well  planned  room  must  be  of  the  same  kind !  In 
this  room  there  are  several  Marlborough  chairs,  a  daven- 
port and  a  semi-circular  fireside  seat  upholstered  in  a 
soft  green  leather,  several  chairs  covered  in  a  chintz  of 
bird  and  blossom  design,  and  other  chairs  covered  with 
old  English  needle-work.  The  effect  is  not  discord,  but 
harmony.  Perhaps  it  is  not  wise  to  advise  the  use  of 
many  colors  and  fabrics  unless  one  has  had  experience 
in  the  combining  of  many  tones  and  hues,  but  if  you 
are  careful  to  keep  your  walls  and  floors  in  subdued 
tones,  you  may  have  great  license  in  the  selecting  of 
hangings  and  chair  coverings  and  ornament. 

I  gave  great  attention  to  the  details  of  this  room. 
Under  the  simple  mantel  shelf  there  is  inset  a  small 
panel  of  blue  and  white  Wedgwood.  On  the  mantel 
there  are  two  jars  of  Chinese  porcelain,  and  between 
them  a  bronze  jardiniere  of  the  Adam  period;  four 
figures  holding  a  shallow,  oblong  tray,  which  is  filled 
with  flowers.    The  lamp  on  the  center-table  is  made  of 

156 


THE  LIVING-ROOM 

a  hawthorn  jar,  with  a  flaring  shade.  There  are  many 
low  tables  scattered  through  the  room  and  beside  every 
chair  is  a  reading-lamp  easily  adjusted  to  any  angle. 
The  fireplace  fittings  are  simple  old  brasses  of  the  Co- 
lonial period.  There  is  only  one  picture  in  this  room, 
and  that  is  the  portrait  of  a  long  gone  lady,  framed  in 
a  carved  gilt  frame,  and  hung  against  the  huge  wall- 
mirror  which  is  opposite  the  fireplace  end  of  the  room. 

I  believe,  given  plenty  of  light  and  air,  that  comfort- 
able chairs  and  good  tables  go  further  toward  making 
a  living-room  comfortable  than  anything  else.  In  the 
Harkness  living-room  you  will  see  this  theory  proven. 
There  are  chairs  and  tables  of  all  sizes,  from  the  great 
sofas  to  the  little  footstools,  from  the  huge  Italian 
tables  to  the  little  table  especially  made  to  hold  a  few 
flower  pots.  Wherever  there  is  a  large  table  there  is  a 
long  sofa  or  a  few  big  chairs ;  wherever  there  is  a  lone 
chair  there  is  a  small  table  to  hold  a  reading-light,  or 
flowers,  or  what  not.  The  great  size  of  the  room,  the 
fine  English  ceiling  of  modeled  plaster,  the  generous 
fireplace  with  its  paneled  over-mantel,  the  groups  of 
windows,  all  these  architectural  details  go  far  toward 
making  the  room  a  success.  The  comfortable  chairs 
and  sofas  and  the  ever  useful  tables  do  the  rest. 

So  many  people  ask  me:  How  shall  I  furnish  my 
living-room?  What  paper  shall  I  use  on  the  walls4? 
What  woodwork  and  curtains — and  rugs?  One 
woman  asked  me  what  books  she  should  buy ! 

Your  living-room  should  grow  out  of  the  needs  of 

157 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

your  daily  life.  There  could  be  no  two  living-rooms 
exactly  alike  in  scheme  if  they  were  lived  in.  You 
will  have  to  decide  on  the  wall  colors  and  such  things, 
it  is  true,  but  the  rest  of  the  room  should  grow  of  itself. 
You  will  not  make  the  mistake  of  using  a  dark  paper 
of  heavy  figures  if  you  are  going  to  use  many  pictures 
and  books,  for  instance.  You  will  not  use  a  gay  bed- 
roomy  paper  covered  with  flowers  and  birds.  You  will 
know  without  being  told  that  your  wall  colors  must 
be  neutral:  that  your  woodwork  must  be  stained  and 
waxed,  or  painted  some  soft  tone  of  your  wall  color. 
Then,  let  the  rugs  and  curtains  and  things  go  until  you 
decide  you  have  to  have  them.  The  room  will  grad- 
ually find  itself,  though  it  may  take  years  and  heart- 
ache and  a  certain  self-confession  of  inadequacy.  It 
will  express  your  life,  if  you  use  it,  so  be  careful  of  the 
life  you  live  in  it! 


158 


XII 


SITTING-ROOM   AND  BOUDOIR 

IN  some  strange  way  the  word  boudoir  has  lost  its 
proper  significance.  People  generally  think  of 
it  as  a  highfalutin'  name  for  the  bedroom,  or  for 
a  dressing-room,  whereas  really  a  proper  boudoir  is 
the  small  personal  sitting-room  of  a  woman  of  many 
interests.  It  began  in  old  France  as  the  private  sit- 
ting-room of  the  mistress  of  the  house,  a  part  of  the 
bedroom  suite,  and  it  has  evolved  into  a  sort  of  office 
de  luxe  where  the  house  mistress  spends  her  precious 
mornings,  plans  the  routine  of  her  household  for  the 
day,  writes  her  letters,  interviews  her  servants,  and  so 
forth.  The  boudoir  has  a  certain  suggestion  of  inti- 
macy because  it  is  a  personal  and  not  a  general  room, 
but  while  it  may  be  used  as  a  lounging-place  occasion- 
ally, it  is  also  a  thoroughly  dignified  room  where  a 
woman  may  receive  her  chosen  friends  when  she 
pleases.  Nothing  more  ridiculous  has  ever  happened 
than  the  vogue  of  the  so-called  "boudoir  cap,"  which 
is  really  suited  only  to  one's  bedroom  or  dressing- 
room.  Such  misnomers  lead  to  a  mistaken  idea  of 
the  real  meaning  of  the  word. 

Some  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  boudoirs  were  ex- 
tremely small.    I  recall  one  charming  little  room  in 

159 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

an  old  French  house  that  was  barely  eight  feet  by 
eleven,  but  it  contained  a  fireplace,  two  windows,  a 
day  bed,  one  of  those  graceful  desks  known  as  a  bon- 
heur  du  jour,  and  two  armchairs.  An  extremely 
symmetrical  arrangement  of  the  room  gave  a  sense  of 
order,  and  order  always  suggests  space.  One  wall 
was  broken  by  the  fireplace,  the  wall  spaces  on  each 
side  of  it  being  paneled  with  narrow  moldings.  The 
space  above  the  mantel  was  filled  with  a  mirror.  On 
the  wall  opposite  the  fireplace  there  was  a  broad  panel- 
ing of  the  same  width  filled  with  a  mirror  from  base- 
board to  ceiling.  In  front  of  this  mirror  was  placed  the 
charming  desk.  On  each  side  of  the  long  mirror  were 
two  windows  exactly  opposite  the  two  long  panels  of  the 
mantel  wall.  The  two  narrow  end  walls  were  treated 
as  single  panels,  the  day  bed  being  placed  flat  against 
one  of  them,  while  the  other  was  broken  by  a  door 
which  led  to  a  little  ante-chamber.  Old  gilt  ap- 
pliques holding  candles  flanked  both  mantel  mirror 
and  desk  mirror.  Two  of  those  graceful  chairs  of  the 
Louis  Seize  period  and  a  small  footstool  completed 
the  furnishing  of  this  room. 

The  boudoir  should  always  be  a  small  room,  be- 
cause in  no  other  way  can  you  gain  a  sense  of  intimacy. 
Here  you  may  have  all  the  luxury  and  elegance  you 
like,  you  may  stick  to  white  paint  and  simple  chintzes, 
or  you  may  indulge  your  passion  for  pale-colored  silks 
and  lace  frills.  Here,  of  all  places,  you  have  a  right 
to  express  your  sense  of  luxury  and  comfort.  The 

160 


SITTING-ROOM  AND  BOUDOIR 

boudoir  furnishings  are  borrowed  from  both  bedroom 
and  drawing-room  traditions.  There  are  certain 
things  that  are  used  in  the  bedroom  that  would  be  ri- 
diculous in  the  drawing-room,  and  yet  are  quite  at 
home  in  the  boudoir.  For  instance,  the  chaise-longue 
is  part  of  the  bedroom  furnishing  in  most  modern 
houses,  and  it  may  also  be  used  in  the  boudoir,  but  in 
the  drawing-room  it  would  be  a  violation  of  good 
taste,  because  the  suggestion  of  intimacy  is  too  evi- 
dent. 

Nothing  is  more  comfortable  in  a  boudoir  than  a 
day  bed.  It  serves  so  many  purposes.  In  my  own 
house  my  boudoir  is  also  my  sitting-room,  and  I  have 
a  large  Louis  XV  day  bed  there  which  may  be  used  by 
an  overnight  guest  if  necessary.  In  a  small  house  the 
boudoir  fitted  with  a  day  bed  becomes  a  guest-room 
on  occasion.  I  always  put  two  or  three  of  these  day  ^ 
beds  in  any  country  house  I  am  doing,  because  I  have 
found  them  so  admirable  and  useful  in  my  own  house. 

As  you  will  see  by  the  photographs,  this  bed  in  no 
way  resembles  an  ordinary  bed  in  the  daytime,  and  it 
seems  to  me  to  be  a  much  better  solution  of  the  extra- 
bed  problem  than  the  mechanical  folding-bed,  which 
is  always  hideous  and  usually  dangerous.  A  good 
day  bed  may  be  designed  to  fit  into  any  room.  This 
one  of  mine  is  of  carved  walnut,  a  very  graceful  one 
that  I  found  in  France. 

In  a  small  sitting-room  in  an  uptown  house,  an  il- 
lustration of  which  is  shown,  I  had  a  day  bed  made  of 

163 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

white  wood  that  was  painted  to  match  the  chintzes 
of  the  room.  The  mattress  and  springs  were  cov- 
ered with  a  bird  chintz  on  a  mauve  ground,  and  the 
pillows  were  all  covered  with  the  same  stuff.  The 
frame  of  the  bed  was  painted  cream  and  decorated 
with  a  dull  green  line  and  small  garlands  of  flowers 
extracted  from  the  design  of  the  chintz.  When  the 
mattress  and  springs  have  been  properly  covered  with 
damask,  or  chintz,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  use, 
there  is  no  suggestion  of  the  ordinary  bed. 

I  suppose  there  is  n't  a  more  charming  room  in  New 
York  than  Miss  Anne  Morgan's  Louis  XVI  boudoir. 
The  everyday  sitting-room  of  a  woman  of  many  in- 
terests, it  is  radiant  with  color  and  individuality,  as 
rare  rugs  are  radiant,  as  jewels  are  radiant.  The 
cream  walls,  with  their  carved  moldings  and  graceful 
panelings,  are  a  pleasant  background  for  all  this  shim- 
mering color.  The  carvings  and  moldings  are  pointed 
in  blue.  The  floor  is  covered  with  a  Persian  rug  which 
glows  with  all  the  soft  tones  of  the  old  Persian  dye- 
pots.  The  day  bed,  a  few  of  the  chairs,  and  the  chest 
of  drawers,  are  of  a  soft  brown  walnut.  There  are 
other  chairs  covered  with  Louis  XVI  tapestries,  bro- 
cade and  needlework,  quite  in  harmony  with  the  mod- 
ern chintz  of  the  day  bed  and  the  hangings.  Above 
the  day  bed  there  is  a  portrait  of  a  lady,  hung  by  wires 
covered  with  shirred  blue  ribbons,  and  this  blue  is 
again  used  in  an  old  porcelain  lamp  jar  on  the  bedside 
table.    The  whole  room  might  have  been  inspired 

164 


SITTING-ROOM  AND  BOUDOIR 

by  the  lady  of  the  portrait,  so  essentially  is  it  the  room 
of  a  fastidious  woman. 

But  to  go  back  to  my  own  boudoir:  it  is  really  sit- 
ting-room, library,  and  rest-room  combined,  a  home 
room  very  much  like  my  down-town  office  in  the  con- 
veniences it  offers.  In  the  early  morning  it  is  my  of- 
fice, where  I  plan  the  day's  routine  and  consult  my 
servants.  In  the  rare  evenings  when  I  may  give  my- 
self up  to  solid  comfort  and  a  new  book  it  becomes  a 
haven  of  refuge  after  the  business  of  the  day.  When 
I  choose  to  work  at  home  with  my  secretary,  it  is  as 
business-like  a  place  as  my  down-town  office.  It  is 
a  sort  of  room  of  all  trades,  and  good  for  each  of  them. 

The  walls  of  the  room  are  pretty  well  filled  with 
built-in  book-shelves,  windows,  chimney-piece,  and 
doors,  but  there  is  one  long  wall  space  for  the  day  bed 
and  another  for  the  old  secretary  that  holds  my  por- 
celain figurines.  The  room  is  really  quite  small,  but 
by  making  the  furniture  keep  its  place  against  the 
walls  an  effect  of  spaciousness  has  been  obtained. 

The  walls  of  the  room  are  painted  the  palest  of 
egg-shell  blue-green.  The  woodwork  is  ivory  white, 
with  applied  decorations  of  sculptured  white  marble. 
The  floor  is  entirely  covered  with  a  carpet  rug  of  jade 
green  velvet,  and  there  is  a  smaller  Persian  rug  of  the 
soft,  indescribable  colors  of  the  Orient.  The  day  bed, 
of  which  I  spoke  in  an  earlier  paragraph,  is  covered 
with  an  old  brocade,  gray-green  figures  on  a  black 
ground.    A  large  armchair  is  also  covered  with  the 

165 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

brocade,  and  the  window  curtains,  which  cannot  be 
seen  in  the  picture,  are  of  black  chintz,  printed  with 
birds  of  pale  greens  and  blues  and  grays,  with  beaks  of 
rose-red. 

There  is  always  a  possibility  for  rose-red  in  my 
rooms,  I  love  it  so.  I  manage  the  other  colors  so  that 
they  will  admit  a  chair  or  a  stool  or  a  bowl  of  rose 
color.  In  this  room  the  two  chairs  beside  the  couch 
are  covered  with  rose-colored  damask,  and  this  brings 
out  the  rose  in  the  rug  and  in  the  chintz,  and  accents 
the  deep  red  note  of  the  leathern  book-bindings.  The 
rose  red  is  subordinated  to  the  importance  of  the  book- 
bindings in  this  room,  but  there  is  still  opportunity  for 
its  use  in  so  many  small  things. 

In  this  room,  you  will  notice,  I  have  used  open 
shelves  for  my  books,  and  the  old  secretary  which  was 
once  a  combination  desk  and  bookcase,  is  used  for  the 
display  of  my  little  treasures  of  porcelain  and  china, 
and  its  drawers  are  used  for  papers  and  prints.  The 
built  in  shelves  have  cupboards  beneath  them  for  the 
flimsy  papers  and  pamphlets  that  do  not  belong  on 
open  shelves.  If  the  same  room  were  pressed  into 
service  as  a  guest  room  I  should  use  the  drawers  in  the 
secretary  instead  of  the  usual  chest  of  drawers,  and 
the  day  bed  for  sleeping. 

The  writing-table  is  placed  at  right  angles  to  one 
of  the  book-filled  panels  between  the  front  windows. 
I  have  used  a  writing-table  in  this  room  because  I 
like  tables  better  than  heavy  desks,  and  because  in  this 

166 


SITTING-ROOM  AND  BOUDOIR 

small  apartment  a  desk  would  seem  heavy  and  ponder- 
ous. The  fittings  of  the  desk  are  of  dark  red  leather, 
like  that  of  many  of  the  book-bindings,  and  the  per- 
sonal touch  that  makes  the  desk  mine  is  a  bowl  of 
roses.  Between  the  two  windows  in  the  shallow  re- 
cess, I  have  placed  an  aquarium,  a  recent  acquisition 
that  delights  my  soul.  The  aquarium  is  simply  an  ob- 
long glass  box  mounted  on  a  teak  stand,  with  a  tracery 
of  teak  carving  outlining  the  box,  which  is  the 
home  of  the  most  gorgeous  fan- tailed  goldfish.  There 
are  water  plants  in  the  box,  too,  and  funny  little  Chi- 
nese temples  and  dwarf  trees.  I  love  to  house  my  lit- 
tle people  happily — my  dogs  and  my  birds  and  my 
fish.  Wee  Toi,  my  little  Chinese  dog,  has  a  little 
house  all  his  own,  an  old  Chinese  lacquer  box  with  a 
canopy  top  and  little  gold  bells.  It  was  once  the 
shrine  of  some  little  Chinese  god,  I  suppose,  but  Wee 
Toi  is  very  happy  in  it,  and  you  can  see  that  it  was 
meant  for  him  in  the  beginning.  It  sits  by  the  fire- 
place and  gives  the  room  an  air  of  real  hominess.  I 
was  so  pleased  with  the  aquarium  and  the  Chinese 
lacquer  bed  for  Wee  Toi  that  I  devised  a  birdcage 
to  go  with  them,  a  square  cage  of  gilt  wires,  with  a 
black  lacquer  pointed  canopy  top,  with  little  gilt  bells 
at  the  pointed  eaves.  The  cage  is  fixed  to  a  shallow 
lacquer  tray,  and  is  the  nicest  place  you  can  imagine 
for  a  whistling  bullfinch  to  live  in.  I  suppose  I  could 
have  a  Persian  cat  on  a  gorgeous  cushion  to  complete 
the  place,  but  I  can't  admit  cats  into  the  room.  I 

169 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

plan  gorgeous  cushions  for  other  people's  "little  peo- 
ple," when  they  happen  to  be  cats. 

Miss  Marbury's  sitting-room  is  on  the  next  floor, 
exactly  like  mine,  architecturally,  but  we  have  worked 
them  out  differently.  I  think  there  is  nothing  more 
interesting  than  the  study  of  the  different  develop- 
ments of  a  series  of  similar  rooms,  for  instance,  a 
dozen  drawing-rooms,  twelve  stories  deep,  in  a  modern 
apartment  house!  Each  room  is  left  by  the  builder 
with  the  same  arrangement  of  doors  and  windows,  the 
same  wall  spaces  and  moldings,  the  same  opportunity 
for  good  or  bad  development.  It  is  n't  often  our  luck 
to  see  all  twelve  of  the  rooms,  but  sometimes  we  see 
three  or  four  of  them,  and  how  amazingly  different 
they  are!  How  amusing  is  the  suggestion  of  person- 
ality, or  lack  of  it! 

Now  in  these  two  sitting-rooms  in  our  house  the 
rooms  are  exactly  the  same  in  size,  in  exposure,  in  the 
placing  of  doors  and  windows  and  fireplaces,  and  we 
have  further  paralleled  our  arrangement  by  placing 
our  day  beds  in  the  same  wall  space,  but  there  the 
similarity  ends.  Miss  Marbury's  color  plan  is  differ- 
ent: her  walls  are  a  soft  gray,  the  floor  is  covered  in 
a  solid  blue  carpet  rug,  rather  dark  in  tone,  the  chintz 
also  has  a  black  ground,  but  the  pattern  is  entirely 
different  in  character  from  the  room  below.  There  is 
a  day  bed,  similar  to  mine,  but  where  my  bed  has  been 
upholstered  with  brocade,  Miss  Marbury's  has  a  loose 
slip  cover  of  black  chintz.    The  spaces  between  the 

170 


SITTING-ROOM  AND  BOUDOIR 

windows  in  my  room  are  filled  with  bookshelves,  and 
in  Miss  Marbury's  room  the  same  spaces  are  filled 
with  mirrors.  The  large  wall-space  that  is  back- 
ground to  my  old  secretary  is  in  her  room  given  up  to 
long  open  bookshelves  of  mahogany.  My  over-man- 
tel is  mirrored,  and  hers  is  filled  with  an  old  painting. 
The  recessed  spaces  on  each  side  of  the  chimney  breast 
hold  small  semi-circular  tables  of  marquetry,  with  a 
pair  of  long  Adam  mirrors  hanging  above  them.  An- 
other Adam  mirror  hangs  above  the  bookshelves  on  the 
opposite  wall.  These  mirrors  are  really  the  most 
important  things  in  the  room,  because  the  moldings 
and  lighting-fixtures  and  picture  frames  have  been 
made  to  harmonize  with  them. 

The  lighting-fixtures  are  of  wood  carved  in  the 
Adam  manner  and  painted  dark  blue  and  gold.  The 
writing-table  has  been  placed  squarely  in  front  of  the 
center  window,  in  which  are  hung  Miss  Marbury's 
bird  cages.  There  are  a  number  of  old  French  prints 
on  the  wall.  The  whole  room  is  quieter  in  tone  than 
my  room,  which  may  be  because  her  chosen  color  is 
old-blue,  and  mine  rose-red. 

In  a  small  house  where  only  one  woman's  tastes 
have  to  be  considered,  a  small  downstairs  sitting-room 
may  take  the  place  of  the  more  personal  boudoir,  but 
where  there  are  a  number  of  people  in  the  household 
a  room  connecting  with  the  bedroom  of  the  house  mis- 
tress is  more  fortunate.  Here  she  can  be  as  inde- 
pendent as  she  pleases  of  the  family  and  the  guests 

171 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

who  come  and  go  through  the  other  living-rooms  of  the 
house.  Here  she  can  have  her  counsels  with  her  chil- 
dren, or  her  tradespeople,  or  her  employees,  without 
the  distractions  of  chance  interruptions,  for  this  one 
room  should  have  doors  that  open  and  close,  doors 
that  are  not  to  be  approached  without  invitation. 
The  room  may  be  as  austere  and  business-like  as  a 
down-town  office,  or  it  may  be  a  nest  of  comfort  and 
luxury  primarily  planned  for  relaxation,  but  it  must 
be  so  placed  that  it  is  a  little  apart  from  the  noise  and 
flurry  of  the  rest  of  the  house  or  it  has  no  real  reason- 
for-being. 

Whenever  it  is  possible,  I  believe  the  man  of  the 
house  should  also  have  a  small  sitting-room  that  cor- 
responds to  his  wife's  boudoir.  We  Americans  have 
made  a  violent  attempt  to  incorporate  a  room  of  this 
kind  in  our  houses  by  introducing  a  "den"  or  a 
"study,"  but  somehow  the  man  of  the  house  is  never 
keen  about  such  a  room.  A  "den"  to  him  means  an 
airless  cubby-hole  of  a  room  hung  with  pseudo-Turk- 
ish draperies  and  papier-mache  shields  and  weapons, 
and  he  has  a  mighty  aversion  to  it.  Who  could  blame 
him'?  And  as  for  the  study,  the  average  man  does  n't 
want  a  study  when  he  wants  to  work;  he  prefers  to 
work  in  his  office,  and  he  'd  like  a  room  of  his  own  big 
enough  to  hold  all  his  junk,  and  he  'd  like  it  to  have 
doors  and  windows  and  a  fireplace.  The  so-called 
study  is  usually  a  heavy,  cheerless  little  room  that 
is  n't  any  good  for  anything  else.    The  ideal  arrange- 

172 


SITTING-ROOM  AND  BOUDOIR 

ment  would  be  a  room  of  average  size  opening  from 
his  bedroom,  a  room  that  would  have  little  suggestion 
of  business  and  a  great  flavor  of  his  hobbies.  His 
wife's  boudoir  must  be  her  office  also,  but  he  does  n't 
need  a  house  office,  unless  he  be  a  writer,  or  a  teacher, 
or  some  man  who  works  at  home.  After  all,  I  think 
the  painters  and  illustrators  are  the  happiest  of  all 
men,  because  they  have  to  have  studios,  and  their 
wives  generally  recognize  the  fact,  and  give  them  a 
free  hand.  The  man  who  has  a  studio  or  a  workshop 
all  his  own  is  always  a  popular  man.  He  has  a  fasci- 
nation for  his  less  fortunate  friends,  who  buzz  around 
him  in  wistful  admiration. 


173 


V 


XIII 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 


IRST  of  all,  I  think  a  dining-room  should  be 


light,  and  gay.    The  first  thing  to  be  consid- 


ered is  plenty  of  sunshine.  The  next  thing  is 
the  planning  of  a  becoming  background  for  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house.  The  room  should  always  be  gay 
and  charming  in  color,  but  the  color  should  be  selected 
with  due  consideration  of  its  becomingness  to  the  hos- 
tess. Every  woman  has  a  right  to  be  pretty  in  her  own 
dining-room. 

I  do  not  favor  the  dark,  heavy  treatments  and  elab- 
orate stuff  hangings  which  seem  to  represent  the  taste 
of  most  of  the  men  who  go  in  for  decorating  nowadays. 
Nine  times  out  of  ten  the  dining-room  seems  to  be  the 
gloomiest  room  in  the  house.  I  think  it  should  be  a 
place  where  the  family  may  meet  in  gaiety  of  spirit 
for  a  pause  in  the  vexatious  happenings  of  the  day.  I 
think  light  tones,  gay  wallpapers,  flowers  and  sunshine 
are  of  more  importance  than  storied  tapestries  and 
heavily  carved  furniture.  These  things  are  all  very 
well  for  the  house  that  has  a  small  dining-room  and  a 
gala  dining-room  for  formal  occasions  as  well,  but 
there  are  few  such  houses. 

We  New  Yorkers  have  been  so  accustomed  to  the 


174 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 

gloomy  basement  dining-rooms  of  the  conventional 
brown-stone  houses  of  the  late  eighties  we  forgot  how 
nice  a  dining-room  can  be.  Even  though  the  city  din- 
ing-room is  now  more  fortunately  placed  in  the  rear 
of  the  second  floor  it  is  usually  overshadowed  by  other 
houses,  and  can  be  lightened  only  by  skilful  use  of  color 
in  curtains,  china,  and  so  forth.  Therefore,  I  think 
this  is  the  one  room  in  the  city  house  where  one  can 
afford  to  use  a  boldly  decorative  paper.  I  like  very 
much  the  Chinese  rice-papers  with  their  broad,  sketchy 
decorations  of  birds  and  flowers.  These  papers  are 
never  tiresomely  realistic  and  are  always  done  in  very 
soft  colors  or  in  soft  shades  of  one  color,  and  while  if 
you  analyze  them  they  are  very  fantastic,  the  general 
effect  is  as  restful  as  it  is  cheerful.  You  know  you  can 
be  most  cheerful  when  you  are  most  rested ! 

The  quaint  landscape  papers  which  are  seen  in  so 
many  New  England  dining-rooms  seem  to  belong  with 
American  Colonial  furniture  and  white  woodwork, 
prim  silver  and  gold  banded  china.  These  landscape 
papers  are  usually  gay  in  effect  and  make  for  cheer. 
There  are  many  new  designs  less  complicated  than  the 
old  ones.  Then,  too,  there  are  charming  foliage  papers, 
made  up  of  leaves  and  branches  and  birds,  which  are 
very  good. 

While  we  may  find  color  and  cheer  in  these  gay 
papers  for  gloomy  city  dining-rooms,  if  we  have  plenty 
of  light  we  may  get  more  distinguished  results  with 
paneled  walls.    A  large  dining-room  may  be  paneled 

175 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

with  dark  wood,  with  a  painted  fresco,  or  tapestry 
frieze,  and  a  ceiling  with  carved  or  painted  beams,  or 
perhaps  one  of  those  interesting  cream-white  ceilings 
with  plaster  beams  judiciously  adorned  with  ornament 
in  low  relief.  Given  a  large  dining-room  and  a  little 
money,  you  can  do  anything :  you  can  make  a  room  that 
will  compare  favorably  with  the  traditional  rooms  on 
which  we  build.  You  have  a  right  to  make  your  din- 
ing-room as  fine  as  you  please,  so  long  as  you  give  it 
its  measure  of  light  and  air.  But  one  thing  you  must 
have :  simplicity !  It  may  be  the  simplicity  of  a  marble 
floor  and  tapestried  walls  and  a  painted  ceiling,  it  may 
be  the  simplicity  of  white  paint  and  muslin  and  fine 
furniture,  but  simplicity  it  must  have.  The  furniture 
that  is  required  in  a  dining-room  declares  itself :  a  table 
and  chairs.  You  can  bring  side  tables  and  china 
closets  into  it,  or  you  can  build  in  cupboards  and  con- 
soles to  take  their  place,  but  there  is  little  chance  for 
other  variation,  and  so  the  beginning  is  a  declaration 
of  order  and  simplicity. 

The  easiest  way  to  destroy  this  simplicity  is  to  litter 
the  room  with  displays  of  silver  and  glass,  to  dot  the 
walls  with  indifferent  pictures.  If  you  are  courageous 
enough  to  let  your  walls  take  care  of  themselves  and 
to  put  away  your  silver  and  china  and  glass,  the  room 
will  be  as  dignified  as  you  could  wish.  Remember 
that  simplicity  depends  on  balance  and  space.  If  the 
walls  balance  one  another  in  light  and  shadow,  if  the 
furniture  is  placed  formally,  if  walls  and  furniture 

176 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 

are  free  from  mistaken  ornament,  the  room  will  be 
serene  and  beautiful.  In  most  other  rooms  we  avoid 
the  "pairing"  of  things,  but  here  pairs  and  sets  of 
things  are  most  desirable.  Two  console  tables  are 
more  impressive  than  one.  There  is  great  decora- 
tive value  in  a  pair  of  mirrors,  a  pair  of  candlesticks, 
a  pair  of  porcelain  jars,  two  cupboards  flanking  a 
chimney-piece.  You  would  not  be  guilty  of  a  pair  of 
wall  fountains,  or  of  two  wall  clocks,  just  as  you  would 
not  have  two  copies  of  the  same  portrait  in  a  room. 
But  when  things  "pair"  logically,  pair  them!  They 
will  furnish  a  backbone  of  precision  to  the  room. 

The  dining-room  in  the  Iselin  house  is  a  fine  example 
of  stately  simplicity.  It  is  extremely  formal,  and  yet 
there  is  about  it  none  of  the  gloominess  one  associates 
with  New  York  dining-rooms.  The  severely  paneled 
walls,  the  fine  chimney-piece  with  an  old  master  inset 
and  framed  by  a  Grinling  Gibbons  carving,  the  ab- 
sence of  the  usual  mantel  shelf,  the  plain  dining-table 
and  the  fine  old  lion  chairs  all  go  to  make  up  a  Geor- 
gian room  of  great  distinction. 

The  woman  who  cannot  afford  such  expensive  sim- 
plicity might  model  a  dining-room  on  this  same  plan 
and  accomplish  a  beautiful  room  at  reasonable  expense. 
Paneled  walls  are  always  possible;  if  you  can't  afford 
wood  paneling,  paint  the  plastered  wall  white  or  cream 
and  break  it  into  panels  by  using  a  narrow  molding  of 
wood.  You  can  get  an  effect  of  great  dignity  by  the 
use  of  molding  at  a  few  cents  a  foot.    A  large  panel 

179 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

would  take  the  place  of  the  Grinling  Gibbons  carving, 
and  a  mirror  might  be  inset  above  the  fireplace  instead 
of  the  portrait.  The  dining-table  and  chairs  might 
give  place  to  good  reproductions  of  Chippendale,  and 
the  marble  console  to  a  carpenter-made  one  painted  to 
match  the  woodwork. 

The  subject  of  proper  furniture  for  a  dining-room 
is  usually  settled  by  the  house  mistress  before  her  wed- 
ding bouquet  has  faded,  so  I  shall  only  touch  on  the 
out-of-ordinary  things  here.  Everyone  knows  that  a 
table  and  a  certain  number  of  chairs  and  a  sideboard 
of  some  kind  "go  together."  The  trouble  is  that  every- 
one knows  these  things  too  well,  and  dining-room  con- 
ventions are  so  binding  that  we  miss  many  pleasant  de- 
partures from  the  usual. 

My  own  dining-room  in  New  York  is  anything  but 
usual,  and  yet  there  is  nothing  undignified  about  it. 
The  room  was  practically  square,  so  that  it  had  a  cer- 
tain orderly  quality  to  begin  with.  The  rooms  of  the 
house  are  all  rather  small,  and  so  to  gain  the  greatest 
possible  space  I  have  the  door  openings  at  the  extreme 
end  of  the  wall,  leaving  as  large  a  wall  space  as  possi- 
ble. You  enter  this  room,  then,  through  a  door  at 
the  extreme  left  of  the  south  wall  of  the  room.  An- 
other door  at  the  extreme  right  of  the  same  wall  leads 
to  a  private  passage.  The  space  left  between  the 
doors  is  thereby  conserved,  and  is  broken  into  a  large 
central  panel  flanked  by  two  narrow  panels.  The 
space  above  the  doors  is  also  paneled.    This  wall  is 

180 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 

broken  by  a  console  placed  under  the  central  panel. 
Above  it  one  of  the  Mennoyer  originals,  which  you 
may  remember  in  the  Washington  Irving  dining-room, 
is  set  in  the  wall,  framed  with  a  narrow  molding  of 
gray.  The  walls  and  woodwork  of  the  room  are  of 
exactly  the  same  tone  of  gray — darker  than  a  silver 
gray  and  lighter  than  pewter.  Everything,  color,  bal- 
ance, proportion,  objects  of  art,  has  been  uniformly 
considered. 

Continuing,  the  east  wall  is  broken  in  the  center  by 
the  fireplace,  with  a  mantel  of  white  and  gray  marble. 
A  large  mirror,  surmounted  with  a  bas-relief  in  black 
and  white,  fills  the  space  between  mantel  shelf  and 
cornice.  This  mirror  and  bas-relief  are  framed  with 
the  narrow  carved  molding  painted  gray.  Here  again 
there  is  the  beauty  of  balance :  two  Italian  candlesticks 
of  carved  and  gilded  wood  flank  a  marble  bust  on  the 
mantel  shelf.  There  is  nothing  more.  On  the  right 
of  the  mirror,  in  a  narrow  panel,  there  is  a  wall  clock 
of  carved  and  gilded  wood  which  also  takes  its  place 
as  a  part  of  the  wall,  and  keeps  it. 

The  north  wall  is  broken  by  two  mirrors  and  a  door 
leading  to  the  service-pantry.  A  large,  four-fold 
screen,  made  of  an  uncut  tapestry,  shuts  off  the  door. 
We  need  all  the  light  the  windows  give,  so  there  are 
no  curtains  except  the  orange-colored  taffeta  valances 
at  the  top.  I  devised  sliding  doors  of  mirrors  that  are 
pulled  out  of  the  wall  at  night  to  fill  the  recessed  space 
of  the  windows.    Ventilation  is  afforded  by  the  open 

181 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

fireplace,  and  by  mechanical  means.  You  see  we  do 
not  occupy  this  house  in  summer,  so  the  mirrored  win- 
dows are  quite  feasible. 

The  fourth  wall  has  no  openings,  and  it  is  broken 
into  three  large  paneled  spaces.  A  console  has  the 
place  of  honor  opposite  the  fireplace,  and  above  it  there 
is  a  mirror  like  that  over  the  mantel.  In  the  two  side 
panels  are  the  two  large  Mennoyers.  There  are  five 
of  these  in  the  room,  the  smaller  ones  flanking  the  chim- 
ney piece.  You  see  that  the  salvation  of  this  room 
depends  on  this  careful  repetition  and  variation  of  sim- 
ilar objects. 

Color  is  brought  into  the  room  in  the  blue  and  yel- 
low of  the  Chinese  rug,  in  the  chairs,  and  in  the  painted 
table.  The  chairs  are  painted  a  creamy  yellow, 
pointed  with  blue,  and  upholstered  with  blue  and  yel- 
low striped  velvet.  I  do  not  like  high-backed  chairs 
in  a  dining-room.  Their  one  claim  to  use  is  that  they 
make  a  becoming  background,  but  this  does  not  com- 
pensate for  the  difficulties  of  the  service  when  they  are 
used.  An  awkward  servant  pouring  soup  down  one's 
back  is  not  an  aid  to  digestion,  or  to  the  peace  of  mind 
engendered  by  a  good  dinner. 

The  painted  table  is  very  unusual.  The  legs  and 
the  carved  under-frame  are  painted  cream  and  pointed 
with  blue,  like  the  chairs,  but  the  top  is  as  gay  as  an 
old-fashioned  garden,  with  stiff  little  medallions,  and 
urns  spilling  over  with  flowers,  and  conventional  blos- 
soms picked  out  all  over  it.    The  colors  used  are  very 

182 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 

soft,  blue  and  cream  being  predominant.  The  table 
is  covered  with  a  sheet  of  plate  glass.  This  table  is, 
of  course,  too  elaborate  for  a  simple  dining-room,  but 
the  idea  could  be  adapted  and  varied  to  suit  many 
color  and  furniture  schemes. 

Painted  furniture  is  a  delight  in  a  small  dining- 
room.  In  the  Colony  Club  I  planned  a  very  small 
room  for  little  dinners  that  is  well  worth  reproducing 
in  a  small  house.  This  little  room  was  very  hard  to 
manage  because  there  were  no  windows!  There  were 
two  tiny  little  openings  high  on  the  wall  at  one  end  of 
the  room,  but  it  would  take  imagination  to  call  them 
windows.  The  room  was  on  the  top  floor,  and  the 
real  light  came  from  a  skylight.  You  can  imagine 
the  difficulty  of  making  such  a  little  box  interesting. 
However,  there  was  one  thing  that  warmed  my  heart 
to  the  little  room:  a  tiny  ante-room  between  the  hall 
proper  and  the  room  proper.  This  little  ante-room  I 
paneled  in  yellowish  tan  and  gray.  I  introduced  a 
sofa  covered  with  an  old  brocade  just  the  color  of  dried 
rose  leaves — ashes  of  roses,  the  French  call  it — and 
the  little  ante-room  became  a  fitting  introduction  to  the 
dining-room  within. 

The  walls  of  the  rooms  were  paneled  in  a  delicious 
color  between  yellow  and  tan,  the  wall  proper  and  the 
moldings  being  this  color,  and  the  panels  themselves 
filled  with  a  gray  paper  painted  in  pinky  yellows  and 
browns.  These  panels  were  done  by  hand  by  a  man 
who  found  his  inspiration  in  the  painted  panels  of  an 

185 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

old  French  ballroom.  As  the  walls  were  unbroken  by 
windows  there  was  ample  space  for  such  decoration. 
A  carpet  of  rose  color  was  chosen,  and  the  skylight  was 
curtained  with  shirred  silk  of  the  same  rose.  The  table 
and  chairs  were  of  painted  wood,  the  chairs  having 
seats  of  the  brocade  used  on  the  ante-room  sofa.  The 
table  was  covered  with  rose  colored  brocade,  and  over 
this,  cobwebby  lace,  and  over  this,  plate  glass.  There 
are  two  consoles  in  the  room,  with  small  cabinets  above 
which  hold  certain  objets  d'art  in  keeping  with  the 
room. 

Under  the  two  tiny  windows  were  those  terrible 
snags  we  decorators  always  strike,  the  radiators. 
Wrongly  placed,  they  are  capable  of  spoiling  any  room. 
I  concealed  these  radiators  by  building  two  small  cabi- 
nets with  panels  of  iron  framework  gilded  to  suggest  a 
graceful  metal  lattice,  and  lined  them  with  rose-colored 
silk.  I  borrowed  this  idea  from  a  fascinating  cabinet 
in  an  old  French  palace,  and  the  result  is  worth  the 
deception.  The  cabinets  are  nice  in  themselves,  and 
they  do  not  interfere  with  the  radiation  of  the  heat. 

I  have  seen  many  charming  country  houses  and  farm 
houses  in  France  with  dining-rooms  furnished  with 
painted  furniture.  Somehow  they  make  the  average 
American  dining-room  seem  very  commonplace  and 
tiresome.  For  instance,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  furnish- 
ing a  little  country  house  in  France  and  we  planned  the 
dining-room  in  blue  and  white.  The  furniture  was  of 
the  simplest,  painted  white,  with  a  dark  blue  line  for 

186 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 

decoration.  The  corner  cupboard  was  a  little  more 
elaborate,  with  a  gracefully  curved  top  and  a  large 
glass  door  made  up  of  little  panes  set  in  a  quaint  design. 
There  were  several  drawers  and  a  lower  cupboard. 
The  drawers  and  the  lower  doors  invited  decorations  a 
little  more  elaborate  than  the  blue  lines  of  the  furni- 
ture, so  we  painted  on  gay  little  medallions  in  soft 
tones  of  blue,  from  the  palest  gray-blue  to  a  very  dark 
blue.  The  chair  cushions  were  blue,  and  the  china  was 
blue  sprigged.  Three  little  pitchers  of  dark-blue  luster 
were  on  the  wall  cupboard  shelf  and  a  mirror  in  a  faded 
gold  frame  gave  the  necessary  variation  of  tone. 

A  very  charming  treatment  for  either  a  country  or 
small  city  dining-room  is  to  have  corner  cupboards  of 
this  kind  cutting  off  two  corners.  They  are  convenient 
and  unusual  and  pretty  as  well.  They  can  be  painted 
in  white  with  a  colored  line  defining  the  panels  and 
can  be  made  highly  decorative  if  the  panels  are  painted 
with  a  classic  or  a  Chinese  design.  The  decoration, 
however,  should  be  kept  in  variations  of  the  same  tone 
as  the  stripe  on  the  panels.  For  instance,  if  the  stripe 
is  gray,  then  the  design  should  be  in  dark  and  light 
gray  and  blue  tones.  The  chairs  can  be  white,  in  a 
room  of  this  kind,  with  small  gray  and  blue  medallions 
and  either  blue  and  white,  or  plain  blue,  cushions. 

Another  dining-room  of  the  same  sort  was  planned 
for  a  small  country  house  on  Long  Island.  Here  the 
woodwork  was  a  deep  cream,  the  walls  the  same  tone, 
and  the  ceiling  a  little  lighter.    We  found  six  of  those 

187 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

prim  Duxbury  chairs,  with  flaring  spindle-backs,  and 
painted  them  a  soft  yellow-green.  The  table  was  a 
plain  pine  one,  with  straight  legs.  We  painted  it 
cream  and  decorated  the  top  with  a  conventional  border 
of  green  adapted  from  the  design  of  the  china— a  thick 
creamy  Danish  ware  ornamented  with  queer  little  wavy 
lines  and  figures.  I  should  have  mentioned  the  china 
first,  because  the  whole  room  grew  from  that.  The  rug 
was  a  square  of  velvet  of  a  darker  green.  The  curtains 
were  soft  cream-colored  net.  One  wall  was  made  up 
of  windows,  another  of  doors  and  a  cupboard,  and 
against  the  other  two  walls  we  built  two  long,  narrow 
consoles  that  were  so  simple  anyone  could  accomplish 
them:  simply  two  wide  shelves  resting  on  good 
brackets,  with  mirrors  above.  The  one  splendid  thing 
in  the  room  was  a  curtain  of  soft  green  damask  that 
was  pulled  at  night  to  cover  the  group  of  windows. 
Everything  else  in  the  room  was  bought  for  a  song. 

I  have  said  much  of  cupboards  and  consoles  because 
I  think  they  are  so  much  better  than  the  awkward, 
heavy  "china  closets"  and  "buffets"  and  sideboards  that 
dominate  most  dining-rooms.  The  time  has  come 
when  we  should  begin  to  do  fine  things  in  the  way  of 
building  fitment  furniture,  that  is,  furniture  that  is 
actually  or  apparently  a  part  of  the  shell  of  the  room. 
It  would  be  so  much  better  to  build  a  house  slowly, 
planning  the  furniture  as  a  part  of  the  architectural 
detail.  With  each  succeeding  year  the  house  would  be- 
come more  and  more  a  part  of  the  owner,  illustrating 

188 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 

his  life.  Of  course,  this  would  mean  that  the  person 
who  planned  the  developing  of  the  house  must  have  a 
certain  architectural  training,  must  know  about  scale 
and  proportion,  and  something  of  general  construction. 
Certainly  charming  things  are  to  be  created  in  this 
way,  things  that  will  last,  things  immeasurably  pref- 
erable to  the  cheap  jerry-built  furniture  which  so  soon 
becomes  shabby,  which  has  to  be  so  constantly  renewed. 
People  accept  new  ideas  with  great  difficulty,  and  my 
only  hope  is  that  they  may  grow  to  accept  the  idea  of 
fitment  furniture  through  finding  the  idea  a  product  of 
their  own;  a  personal  discovery  that  comes  from  their 
own  needs. 

I  have  constantly  recommended  the  use  of  our  native 
American  woods  for  panelings  and  wall  furniture,  be- 
cause we  have  both  the  beautiful  woods  of  our  new 
world  and  tried  and  proven  furniture  of  the  old 
world,  and  what  could  n't  we  achieve  with  such 
material  available?  Why  do  people  think  of  a  built-in 
cupboard  as  being  less  important  than  a  detached  piece 
of  furniture?  Isn't  it  a  braggart  pose,  a  desire  to 
show  the  number  of  things  you  can  buy?  Of  course 
it  is  a  very  foolish  pose,  but  it  is  a  popular  one,  this  dis- 
play of  objects  that  are  ear-marked  "expensive." 

It  is  very  easy  to  build  cupboards  on  each  side  of  a 
fireplace,  for  instance,  making  the  wall  flush  with  the 
chimney-breast.  This  is  always  good  architectural 
form.  One  side  could  have  a  desk  which  opens  be- 
neath the  glass  doors,  and  the  other  could  have  cup- 

191 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

boards,  both  presenting  exactly  the  same  appearance 
when  closed.  Fitted  corner  cupboards,  triangular  or 
rounded,  are  also  excellent  in  certain  dining  rooms. 

Wall  tables,  or  consoles,  may  be  of  the  same  wood  as 
the  woodwork  or  of  marble,  or  of  some  dark  polished 
wood.  There  are  no  more  useful  pieces  of  furniture 
than  consoles,  and  yet  we  only  see  them  in  great  houses. 
Why?  Because  they  are  simple,  and  we  haven't  yet 
learned  to  demand  the  simple.  I  have  had  many  in- 
teresting old  console-tables  of  wrought  iron  support  and 
marble  tops  copied,  and  I  have  designed  others  that 
were  mere  semi-circles  of  white  painted  wood  supported 
by  four  slender  legs,  but  whether  they  be  marble  or 
pine  the  effect  is  always  simple.  There  are  charming 
consoles  that  have  come  to  us  from  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury, consoles  made  in  pairs,  so  that  they  may  stand 
against  the  wall  as  serving-tables,  or  be  placed  together 
to  form  one  round  table.  This  is  a  very  good  arrange- 
ment where  people  have  one  large  living  room  or  hall 
in  which  they  dine  and  which  also  serves  all  the  pur- 
pose of  daily  intercourse.  This  entirely  removes  any 
suggestion  of  a  dining-room,  as  the  consoles  may  be 
separated  and  stand  against  the  wall  during  the  day. 

Many  modern  houses  are  being  built  without  the 
conventional  dining-room  we  have  known  so  long,  there 
being  instead  an  open-air  breakfast  room  which  may  be 
glazed  in  winter  and  screened  in  summer.  People 
have  come  to  their  senses  at  last,  and  realize  that  there 
is  nothing  so  pleasant  as  eating  outdoors.    The  annual 

192 


A  LIGHT,  GAY  DINING-ROOM 

migration  of  Americans  to  Europe  is  responsible  for  the 
introduction  of  this  excellent  custom.  French  houses 
are  always  equipped  with  some  outdoor  place  for  eat- 
ing. Some  of  them  have,  in  addition  to  the  inclosed 
porch,  a  fascinating  pavilion  built  in  the  garden,  where 
breakfast  and  tea  may  be  served.  Modern  mechanical 
conveniences  and  the  inexpensive  electric  apparatus 
make  it  possible  to  serve  meals  at  this  distance  from  the 
house  and  keep  them  hot  in  the  meantime.  One 
may  prepare  one's  own  coffee  and  toast  at  table,  with 
the  green  trees  and  flowers  and  birds  all  around. 

Eating  outdoors  makes  for  good  health  and  long  life 
and  good  temper,  everyone  knows  that.  The  simplest 
meal  seems  a  gala  affair  when  everyone  is  radiant  and 
cheerful,  whereas  a  long  and  elaborate  meal  served  in- 
doors is  usually  depressing. 


193 


XIV 


THE  BEDROOM 

IN  olden  times  people  rarely  slept  in  their  bed- 
rooms, which  were  mostly  chambres  de  parade, 
where  everyone  was  received  and  much  business 
was  transacted.  The  real  bedroom  was  usually  a 
smallish  closet  nearby.  These  chambres  de  parade 
were  very  splendid,  the  beds  raised  on  a  dais,  and  hung 
with  fine  damasks  and  tapestries — tapestries  thick  with 
bullion  fringes.  The  horror  of  fresh  air  felt  by  our 
ancestors  was  well  illustrated  here.  No  draughts 
from  ill-constructed  windows  or  badly  hung  doors 
could  reach  the  sleeper  in  such  a  bed. 

This  was  certainly  different  from  our  modern  ideas 
of  hygiene:  In  those  days  furniture  that  could  not 
be  hastily  moved  was  of  little  importance.  The  bed 
was  usually  a  mere  frame  of  wood,  made  to  be  covered 
with  valuable  hangings  which  could  easily  be  packed 
and  carried  away  on  occasions  that  too  often  arose  in 
the  troublous  days  of  the  early  Middle  Ages.  The 
benches  and  tables  one  sees  in  many  foreign  palaces 
to-day  are  covered  with  gorgeous  lengths  of  velvet  and 
brocade.  This  is  a  survival  of  the  custom  when  furni- 
ture was  merely  so  much  baggage.  With  the  early 
Eighteenth  Century,  however,  there  came  into  being 

194 


THE  BEDROOM 

les  petits  appartements,  in  which  the  larger  space  for- 
merly accorded  the  bedroom  was  divided  into  ante- 
chamber, salon  or  sitting-room,  and  the  bedroom. 
Very  often  the  bed  was  placed  in  an  alcove,  and  the 
heavy  brocades  and  bullion  embroideries  were  replaced 
by  linen  or  cotton  hangings. 

When  Oberkampf  established  himself  at  Jouy  in 
1760  France  took  first  place  in  the  production  of  these 
printed  linens  and  cottons.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  the  age  of  chintz  and  of  the  delightful  decorative 
fabrics  that  are  so  suited  to  our  modern  ideas  of  hy- 
giene. It  seems  to  me  there  are  no  more  charming 
stuffs  for  bedroom  hangings  than  these  simple  fabrics, 
with  their  enchantingly  fanciful  designs.  Think  of 
the  changes  one  could  have  with  several  sets  of  curtains 
to  be  changed  at  will,  as  Marie  Antoinette  used  to  do 
at  the  Petit  Trianon.  How  amusing  it  would  be  in 
our  own  modern  houses  to  change  the  bed  coverings, 
window  curtains,  and  so  forth,  twice  or  three  times  a 
year !  I  like  these  loose  slip  covers  and  curtains  better 
than  the  usual  hard  upholstery,  because  if  properly 
planned  the  slips  can  be  washed  without  losing  their 
color  or  their  lines. 

Charming  Eighteenth  Century  prints  that  are  full  of 
valuable  hints  as  to  furniture  and  decorations  for  bed- 
rooms can  be  found  in  most  French  shops.  The  series 
known  as  "Moreau  le  Jeun"  is  full  of  suggestion. 
Some  of  the  interiors  shown  are  very  grand,  it  is  true, 
but  many  are  simple  enough  to  serve  as  models  for 

197 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

modern  apartments.  A  set  of  these  pictures  will  do 
much  to  give  one  an  insight  into  the  decoration  of  the 
Eighteenth  Century,  a  vivid  insight  that  can  be  ob- 
tained in  no  other  way,  perhaps. 

I  do  not  like  the  very  large  bedrooms,  dear  to  the 
plans  of  the  American  architect.  I  much  prefer  the 
space  divided.  I  remember  once  arriving  at  the  Ritz 
Hotel  in  London  and  being  given  temporarily  a  very 
grand  royal  suite,  overlooking  the  park,  until  the 
smaller  quarters  I  had  reserved  should  be  ready  for  me. 
How  delighted  I  was  at  first  with  all  the  huge  vastness 
of  my  bedroom!  My  appreciation  waned,  however, 
after  a  despairing  morning  toilet  spent  in  taking  many 
steps  back  and  forth  from  dressing-table  to  bathroom, 
and  from  bathroom  to  hang-closets,  and  I  was  glad  in- 
deed, when,  at  the  end  of  several  hours,  I  was  com- 
fortably housed  in  my  smaller  and  humbler  quarters. 

I  think  the  ideal  bedroom  should  be  planned  so  that 
a  small  ante-chamber  should  separate  it  from  the  large 
outside  corridor.  The  ideal  arrangement  is  an  ante- 
chamber opening  on  the  boudoir,  or  sitting-room,  then 
the  bedroom,  with  its  dressing-room  and  bath  in  back. 
This  outer  chamber  insures  quiet  and  privacy,  no  mat- 
ter how  small  it  may  be.  It  may  serve  as  a  clothes- 
closet,  by  filling  the  wall  with  cupboards,  and  conceal- 
ing them  with  mirrored  doors.  The  ante-chamber 
need  not  be  a  luxury,  if  you  plan  your  house  carefully. 
It  is  simply  a  little  well  of  silence  and  privacy  between 
you  and  the  hall  outside. 

198 


miss  Crocker's  louis  xvi.  bed 


THE  BEDROOM 

To  go  on  with  my  ideal  bedroom :  the  walls,  I  think, 
should  be  simply  paneled  in  wood,  painted  gray  or 
cream  or  white,  but  if  wood  cannot  be  afforded  a  plas- 
tered wall,  painted  or  distempered  in  some  soft  tone, 
is  the  best  solution.  You  will  find  plain  walls  and  gay 
chintz  hangings  very  much  more  satisfying  than  walls 
covered  with  flowered  papers  and  plain  hangings,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  a  design  repeated  hundreds  of 
times  on  a  wall  surface  becomes  very,  very  tiresome, 
but  the  same  design  in  a  fabric  is  softened  and  broken 
by  the  folds  of  the  material,  and  you  will  never  get  the 
annoying  sense  of  being  impelled  to  count  the  figures. 

One  of  the  bedrooms  illustrated  in  this  book  shows 
an  Elizabethan  paper  that  does  not  belong  to  the 
"busy"  class,  for  while  the  design  is  decorative  in  the 
extreme  you  are  not  aware  of  an  emphatic  repeat.  This 
is  really  an  old  chintz  design,  and  is  very  charm- 
ing in  blues  and  greens  and  grays  on  a  cream 
ground.  I  have  seen  bedrooms  papered  with  huge 
scrolls  and  sea  shells,  many  times  enlarged,  that  sug- 
gest the  noisy  and  methodical  thumping  of  a  drum.  I 
cannot  imagine  anyone  sleeping  calmly  in  such  a  room ! 

This  bedroom  is  eminently  suited  to  the  needs  of  a 
man.  The  hangings  are  of  a  plain,  soft  stuff,  accent- 
ing one  of  the  deep  tones  of  the  wall  covering,  and  the 
sash  curtains  are  of  white  muslin.  The  furniture  is 
of  oak,  of  the  Jacobean  period.  The  bed  is  true  to  its 
inspiration,  with  turned  legs  and  runners,  and  slatted 
head  and  foot  boards.    The  legs  and  runners  of  the 

201 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

bed  were  really  inspired  by  the  chairs  and  tables  of 
the  period.  This  is  an  excellent  illustration  of  the 
modern  furniture  that  may  be  adapted  from  old  mod- 
els. It  goes  without  saying  that  the  beds  of  that 
period  were  huge,  cumbersome  affairs,  and  this  adapted 
bed  is  really  more  suitable  to  modern  needs  in  size  and 
weight  and  line  than  an  original  one. 

There  are  so  many  inspirations  for  bedrooms  now- 
adays that  one  finds  it  most  difficult  to  decide  on  any 
one  scheme.  One  of  my  greatest  joys  in  planning  the 
Colony  Club  was  that  I  had  opportunity  to  furnish  so 
many  bedrooms.  And  they  were  small,  pleasant 
rooms,  too,  not  the  usual  impersonal  boxes  that  are 
usually  planned  for  club  houses  and  hotels.  I  worked 
out  the  plan  of  each  bedroom  as  if  I  were  to  live  in 
it  myself,  and  while  they  all  differed  in  decorative 
schemes  the  essentials  were  the  same  in  each  room:  a 
comfortable  bed,  with  a  small  table  beside  it  to  hold 
a  reading  light,  a  clock,  and  a  telephone;  a  chaise- 
longue  for  resting;  a  long  mirror  somewhere;  a  dress- 
ing table  with  proper  lights  and  a  glass  covered  top; 
a  writing  table,  carefully  equipped,  and  the  necessary 
chairs  and  stools.  Some  of  the  bedrooms  had  no  con- 
necting baths,  and  these  were  given  wash  stands  with 
bowls  and  pitchers  of  clear  glass.  Most  of  these  bed- 
rooms were  fitted  with  mahogany  four  post  beds,  pie 
crust  tables,  colonial  highboys,  gay  chintzes,  and  such, 
but  there  were  several  rooms  of  entirely  different 
scheme. 

202 


THE  BEDROOM 

Perhaps  the  most  fascinating  of  them  all  is  the  bird 
room.  The  walls  are  covered  with  an  Oriental  paper 
patterned  with  marvelous  blue  and  green  birds,  birds 
of  paradise  and  paroquets  perched  on  flowering 
branches.  The  black  lacquer  furniture  was  especially 
designed  for  the  room.  The  rug  and  the  hangings  are 
of  jade  green.  I  wonder  how  this  seems  to  read  of — 
I  can  only  say  it  is  a  very  gay  and  happy  room  to  live 
in! 

There  is  another  bedroom  in  pink  and  white,  which 
would  be  an  adorable  room  for  a  young  girl.  The 
bed  is  of  my  own  design,  a  simple  white  painted  metal 
bed.  There  is  a  chaise-longue,  upholstered  in  the  pink 
and  white  striped  chintz  of  the  room.  The  same 
chintz  is  used  for  window  hangings,  bed  spread,  and 
so  forth.  There  is  a  little  spindle  legged  table  of  ma- 
hogany, and  another  table  at  the  head  of  the  bed  which 
contains  the  reading  light.  There  is  also  a  little  white 
stool,  with  a  cushion  of  the  chintz,  beside  the  bed.  The 
dressing-table  is  so  simple  that  any  girl  might  copy 
it — it  is  a  chintz-hung  box  with  a  sheet  of  plate  glass 
on  top,  and  a  white  framed  mirror  hung  above  it. 
The  electric  lights  in  this  room  are  cleverly  made  into 
candlesticks  which  are  painted  to  match  the  chintz. 
The  writing-table  is  white,  with  a  mahogany  chair  in 
front  of  it. 

Another  bedroom  has  a  narrow  four  post  bed  of 
mahogany,  with  hangings  of  China  blue  sprigged  with 
small  pink  roses.    There  was  another  in  green  and 

205 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

white.  In  every  case  these  bedrooms  were  equipped 
with  rugs  of  neutral  and  harmonious  tone.  The  dress- 
ing-tables were  always  painted  to  harmonize  with  the 
chintzes  or  the  furniture.  Wherever  possible  there 
was  an  open  fireplace.  Roomy  clothes  closets  added 
much  to  the  comfort  of  each  room,  and  there  was  always 
a  couch  of  delicious  softness,  or  a  chaise-longue,  and 
lounging  chairs  which  invited  repose. 

Nothing  so  nice  has  happened  in  a  long  time  as  the 
revival  of  painted  furniture,  and  the  application  of 
quaint  designs  to  modern  beds  and  chairs  and  chests. 
You  may  find  inspiration  in  a  length  of  chintz,  in  an 
old  fan,  in  a  faded  print — anywhere!  The  main 
thing  is  to  work  out  a  color  plan  for  the  background 
— the  walls,  the  furniture,  and  the  rugs — and  then 
you  can  draw  or  stencil  the  chosen  designs  wherever 
they  seem  to  belong,  and  paint  them  in  with  dull  tones 
and  soft  colors,  rose  and  buff  and  blue  and  green  and 
a  little  bit  of  gray  and  cream  and  black.  Or,  if  you 
are  n't  even  as  clever  as  that  (and  you  probably  are!) 
you  can  decorate  your  painted  furniture  with  narrow 
lines  of  color:  dark  green  on  a  light  green  ground; 
dark  blue  on  yellow;  any  color  on  gray  or  cream — 
there  are  infinite  possibilities  of  color  combinations. 
In  one  of  the  rooms  shown  in  the  illustrations  the  posy 
garlands  on  the  chest  of  drawers  were  inspired  by  a 
lamp  jar.  This  furniture  was  carefully  planned,  as 
may  be  seen  by  the  little  urns  on  the  bedposts,  quite 
in  the  manner  of  the  Brothers  Adam,  but  delightful 

206 


MAUVE  CHINTZ  IN  A  DULL-GREEN  ROOM 


THE  BEDROOM 

results  may  be  obtained  by  using  any  simple  modern 
cottage  furniture  and  applying  fanciful  decorations. 

Be  wary  of  hanging  many  pictures  in  your  bedroom. 
I  give  this  advice  cheerfully,  because  I  know  you  will 
hang  them  anyway  (I  do)  but  I  warn  you  you  will 
spoil  your  room  if  you  are  n't  very  stern  with  yourself. 
Somehow  the  pictures  we  most  love,  small  prints  and 
photographs  and  things,  look  spotty  on  our  walls.  We 
must  group  them  to  get  a  pleasant  effect.  Keep  the 
framed  photographs  on  the  writing  table,  the  dressing 
table,  the  mantel,  etc.,  but  do  not  hang  them  on  your 
walls.  If  you  have  small  prints  that  you  feel  you 
must  have,  hang  them  flat  on  the  wall,  well  within  the 
line  of  vision.  They  should  be  low  enough  to  be 
examined,  because  usually  such  pictures  are  not  deco- 
rative in  effect,  but  exquisite  in  detail.  The  fewer 
pictures  the  better,  and  in  the  guest-room  fewer  still! 

I  planned  a  guest-room  for  the  top  floor  of  a  New 
York  house  that  is  very  successful.  The  room  was 
built  around  a  pair  of  appliques  made  from  two  old 
Chinese  sprays  of  metal  flowers.  I  had  small  electric 
light  bulbs  fitted  among  the  flowers,  mounted  them  on 
carved  wood  brackets  on  each  side  of  a  good  mantel 
mirror  and  worked  out  the  rest  of  the  room  from  them. 
The  walls  were  painted  bluish  green,  the  woodwork 
white.  Just  below  the  molding  at  the  top  of  the  room 
there  was  a  narrow  border  (four  inches  wide)  of  a 
mosaic-like  pattern  in  blue  and  green.  The  carpet 
rug  is  of  a  blue-green  tone.    The  hangings  are  of  an 

209 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

alluring  Chinoiserie  chintz,  and  there  are  several  Chi- 
nese color  prints  framed  and  hanging  in  the  narrow 
panels  between  the  front  windows.  The  furniture  is 
painted  a  deep  cream  pointed  with  blue  and  green,  and 
the  bed  covering  is  of  a  pale  turquoise  taffeta. 

Another  guest  room  was  done  in  gentian  blue  and 
white,  with  a  little  buff  and  rose-color  in  small  things. 
This  room  was  planned  for  the  guests  of  the  daughter 
of  the  house,  so  the  furnishings  were  naively  and  ador- 
ably feminine.  The  dressing-table  was  made  of  a 
long,  low  box,  with  a  glass  top  and  a  valance  so  crisp 
and  flouncing  that  it  suggested  a  young  lady  in  crino- 
line. The  valance  was  of  chintz  in  gentian  blue  and 
white.  The  white  mirror  frame  was  decorated  with 
little  blue  lines  and  tendrils.  Surely  any  girl  would 
grow  pretty  with  dressing  before  such  an  enchanting 
affair!  And  simple — why,  she  could  hinge  the  mir- 
rors together,  and  make  the  chintz  ruffle,  and  enamel 
the  shelves  white,  and  do  every  bit  of  it  except  cut  the 
plate  glass.  Of  course  the  glass  is  very  clean  and  nice, 
but  an  enameled  surface  with  a  white  linen  cover 
would  be  very  pleasant. 

The  same  blue  and  white  chintz  was  used  for  the 
hangings  and  bed  coverings.  Everything  else  in  the 
room  was  white  except  the  thick  cream  rug  with  its 
border  of  blue  and  rose  and  buff,  and  the  candlesticks 
and  appliques  which  repeated  those  colors. 

There  is  a  chintz  I  love  to  use  called  the  Green 
Feather  chintz.    It  is  most  decorative  in  design  and 

210 


THE  BEDROOM 

color,  and  such  an  aristocratic  sort  of  chintz  you  can 
use  it  on  handsome  old  sofas  and  four  post  beds  that 
would  scorn  a  more  commonplace  chintz.  Mrs. 
Payne  Whitney  has  a  most  enchanting  bed  covered 
with  the  Green  Feather  chintz,  one  of  those  great  beds 
that  depend  entirely  on  their  hangings  for  effect,  for 
not  a  bit  of  the  wooden  frame  shows.  Mrs.  Frederick 
Havemeyer  has  a  similar  bed  covered  with  a  Chinoiserie 
chintz.  These  great  beds  are  very  beautiful  in  large 
rooms,  but  they  would  be  out  of  place  in  small  ones. 
There  are  draped  beds,  however,  that  may  be  used  in 
smaller  rooms.  I  am  showing  a  photograph  of  a  bed- 
room in  the  Crocker  house  in  Burlingame,  California, 
where  I  used  a  small  draped  bed  with  charming  effect. 
This  bed  is  placed  flat  against  the  wall,  like  a  sofa,  and 
the  drapery  is  adapted  from  that  of  a  Louis  XVI  room. 
The  bed  is  of  gray  painted  wood,  and  the  hangings  are 
of  blue  and  cream  chintz  lined  with  blue  taffetas.  I 
used  the  same  idea  in  a  rose  and  blue  bedroom  in  a  New 
York  house.  In  this  case,  however,  the  bed  was 
painted  cream  white  and  the  large  panels  of  the  head 
and  foot  boards  were  filled  with  a  rose  and  blue  chintz. 
The  bedspread  was  of  deep  rose  colored  taffetas,  and 
from  a  small  canopy  above  the  bed  four  curtains  of 
the  rose  and  blue  chintz,  lined  with  the  taffetas,  are 
pulled  to  the  four  corners  of  the  bed.  This  novel  ar- 
rangement of  draperies  is  very  satisfactory  in  a  small 
room. 

In  my  own  house  the  bedrooms  open  into  dressing- 

213 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

rooms,  so  much  of  the  usual  furniture  is  not  necessary. 
My  own  bedroom,  for  instance,  is  built  around  the 
same  old  Breton  bed  I  had  in  the  Washington  Irving 
house.  The  bed  dominates  the  room,  but  there  are  also 
a  chaise-longue^  several  small  tables,  many  comfort- 
able chairs,  and  a  real  fireplace.  The  business  of 
dressing  takes  place  in  the  dressing-room,  so  there  is  no 
dressing-table  here,  but  there  are  long  mirrors  filling 
the  wall  spaces  between  windows  and  doors.  Miss 
Marbury's  bedoom  is  just  over  mine,  and  is  a  sunshiny 
place  of  much  rose  and  blue  and  cream.  Her  rooms 
are  always  full  of  blue,  just  as  my  rooms  are  always 
full  of  rose  color.  This  bedroom  has  cream  wood- 
work and  walls  of  a  bluish-gray,  cream  painted  furni- 
ture covered  with  a  mellow  sort  of  rose-and-cream 
chintz,  and  a  Persian  rug  made  up  of  blue  and  cream. 
The  curtains  at  the  windows  are  of  plain  blue  linen 
bordered  with  a  narrow  blue  and  white  fringe.  The 
lighting-fixtures  are  of  carved  wood,  pointed  in  poly- 
chrome. The  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  room  is  a 
Fifteenth  Century  painting,  the  Madonna  of  Bar- 
tolomeo  Montagna,  which  has  the  place  of  honor  over 
the  mantel. 

I  have  n't  said  a  word  about  our  nice  American  Co- 
lonial bedrooms,  because  all  of  you  know  their  beauties 
and  requirements  as  well  as  I.  The  great  drawback  to 
the  stately  old  furniture  of  our  ancestors  is  the  space 
it  occupies.  Have  n't  you  seen  a  fine  old  four  post 
bed  simply  overflowing  a  poor  little  room?  Fortu- 

214 


THE  BEDROOM 

nately,  the  furniture-makers  are  designing  simple  beds 
of  similar  lines,  but  lighter  build,  and  these  beds  are 
very  lovely.  The  owner  of  a  massive  old  four-post 
bed  is  justly  proud  of  it,  but  our  new  beds  are  built  for 
a  new  service  and  a  new  conception  of  hygiene,  and  so 
must  find  new  lines  and  curves  that  will  be  friendly  to 
the  old  dressing  tables  and  highboys  and  chests  of 
drawers. 

When  we  are  fortunate  enough  to  inherit  great  old 
houses,  of  course  we  will  give  them  proper  furniture 
■ —  if  we  can  find  it. 

I  remember  a  house  in  New  Orleans  that  had  a  full 
dozen  spacious  bedrooms,  square,  closetless  chambers 
that  opened  into  small  dressing-rooms.  One  of  them, 
I  remember,  was  absolutely  bare  of  wall  and  floor, 
with  a  great  Napoleon  bed  set  squarely  in  the  center 
of  it.  There  was  the  inevitable  mosquito  net  canopy, 
here  somehow  endowed  with  an  unexpected  dignity. 
One  felt  the  room  had  been  made  for  sleeping,  and 
nothing  but  sleeping,  and  while  the  bed  was  placed  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  to  get  all  the  air  possible,  its 
placing  was  a  master  stroke  of  decoration  in  that  great 
white  walled  room.  It  was  as  impressive  as  a  royal 
bed  on  a  dais. 

We  are  getting  more  sensible  about  our  bedrooms. 
There  is  no  doubt  about  it.  For  the  last  ten  years 
there  has  been  a  dreadful  epidemic  of  brass  beds,  a 
mistaken  vogue  that  came  as  a  reaction  from  the  heavy 
walnut  beds  of  the  last  generation.    White  painted 

215 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

metal  beds  came  first,  and  will  last  always,  but  they 
were  n't  good  enough  for  people  of  ostentatious  tastes, 
and  so  the  vulgar  brass  bed  came  to  pass.  Why  we 
should  suffer  brass  beds  in  our  rooms,  I  don't  know! 
The  plea  is  that  they  are  more  sanitary  than  wooden 
ones.  Hospitals  must  consider  sanitation  first,  last, 
and  always,  and  they  use  white  iron  beds.  And  why 
should  n't  white  iron  beds,  which  are  modest  and  unas- 
suming in  appearance,  serve  for  homes  as  well  9  The 
truth  is  that  the  glitter  of  brass  appeals  to  the  un- 
trained eye.  But  that  is  passing.  Go  into  the  better 
shops  and  you  will  see!  Recently  there  was  a  spas- 
modic outbreak  of  silver-plated  beds,  but  I  think  there 
won't  be  a  vogue  for  this  newest  object  of  bad  taste. 
It  is  a  little  too  much! 

If  your  house  is  clean  and  you  intend  to  keep  it  so, 
a  wooden  bed  that  has  some  relation  to  the  rest  of  your 
furniture  is  the  best  bed  possible.  Otherwise,  a  white 
painted  metal  one.  There  is  never  an  excuse  for  a 
brass  one.  Indeed,  I  think  the  three  most  glaring  er- 
rors we  Americans  make  are  rocking-chairs,  lace  cur- 
tains, and  brass  beds. 


216 


XV 


THE  DRESSING-ROOM  AND  THE  BATH 

DRESSING-ROOMS  and  closets  should  be  ne- 
cessities, not  luxuries,  but  alas !  our  architects' 
ideas  of  the  importance  of  large  bedrooms 
have  made  it  almost  impossible  to  incorporate  the 
proper  closets  and  dressing-places  a  woman  really  re- 
quires. 

In  the  foregoing  chapter  on  bedrooms  I  advised  the 
division  of  a  large  bedroom  into  several  smaller  rooms : 
ante-chamber,  sitting-room,  sleeping-room,  dressing- 
room  and  bath.  The  necessary  closets  may  be  built 
along  the  walls  of  all  these  little  rooms,  or,  if  there  is 
sufficient  space,  one  long,  airy  closet  may  serve  for  all 
one's  personal  belongings.  Of  course,  such  a  suite  of 
rooms  is  possible  only  in  large  houses.  But  even  in 
simple  houses  a  small  dressing-room  can  be  built  into 
the  corner  of  an  average-sized  bedroom. 

In  France  every  woman  dresses  in  her  cabinet  de 
toilette;  it  is  one  of  the  most  important  rooms  in  the 
house.  No  self-respecting  French  woman  would 
dream  of  dressing  in  her  sleeping-room.  The  little 
cabinet  de  toilette  need  not  be  much  larger  than  a 
closet,  if  the  closets  are  built  ceiling  high,  and  the 
doors  are  utilized  for  mirrors.    Such  an  arrangement 

219 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

makes  for  great  comfort  and  privacy.  Here  I  find 
that  most  of  my  countrywomen  dress  in  their  bed- 
rooms. I  infinitely  prefer  the  separate  dressing-room, 
which  means  a  change  of  air,  and  which  can  be  thor- 
oughly ventilated.  If  one  sleeps  with  the  bedroom 
windows  wide  open,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  have  a  warm 
dressing-room  to  step  into. 

I  think  the  first  thing  to  be  considered  about  a  dress- 
ing-room is  its  utility.  Here  no  particular  scheme  of 
decoration  or  over-elaboration  of  color  is  in  place. 
Everything  should  be  very  simple,  very  clean  and  very 
hygienic.  The  floors  should  not  be  of  wood,  but  may 
be  of  marble  or  mosaic  cement  or  clean  white  tiles, 
with  a  possible  touch  of  color.  If  the  dressing-room 
is  bathroom  also,  there  should  be  as  large  a  bath  as  is 
compatible  with  the  size  of  the  room.  The  combina- 
tion of  dressing-room  and  bathroom  is  successful  only 
in  those  large  houses  where  each  bedroom  has  its  bath. 
I  have  seen  such  rooms  in  modern  American  houses 
that  were  quite  as  large  as  bedrooms,  with  the  supreme 
luxury  of  open  fireplaces.  Think  of  the  comfort  of 
having  one's  bath  and  of  making  one's  toilet  before  an 
open  fire!  This  is  an  outgrowth  of  our  passion  for 
bedrooms  that  are  so  be-windowed  they  become  sleep- 
ing-porches, and  we  may  leave  their  chill  air  for  the 
comfortable  warmth  of  luxurious  dressing-rooms. 

If  I  were  giving  advice  as  to  the  furnishing  of  a 
dressing-room,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  I  should 
say:    "Put  in  lots  of  mirrors,  and  then  more  mirrors, 

220 


By  permission  of  the  Butterick  Publishing  Co. 


FURNITURE  PAINTED  WITH  CHINTZ  DESIGNS 


THE  DRESSING-ROOM  AND  BATH 

and  then  more !"  Indeed,  I  do  not  think  one  can  have 
too  many  mirrors  in  a  dressing-room.  Long  mirrors 
can  be  set  in  doors  and  wall  panels,  so  that  one  may  see 
one's  self  from  hat  to  boots.  Hinged  mirrors  are 
lovely  for  sunny  wall  spaces,  and  for  the  tops  of  dress- 
ing-tables. I  have  made  so  many  of  them.  One  of 
green  and  gold  lacquer  was  made  to  be  used  on  a  plain 
green  enameled  dressing-table  placed  squarely  in  the 
recess  of  a  great  window.  I  also  use  small  mirrors  of 
graceful  contour  to  light  up  the  dark  corners  of  dress- 
ing-rooms. 

Have  your  mirrors  so  arranged  that  you  get  a  good 
strong  light  by  day,  and  have  plenty  of  electric  lights 
all  around  the  dressing-mirrors  for  night  use.  In  other 
words,  know  the  worst  before  you  go  out !  In  my  own 
dressing-room  the  lights  are  arranged  just  as  I  used  to 
have  them  long  ago  in  my  theater  dressing-room 
when  I  was  on  the  stage.  I  can  see  myself  back,  front 
and  sides  before  I  go  out.  Really,  it  is  a  comfort  to 
be  on  friendly  terms  with  your  own  back  hair !  I  lay 
great  stress  on  the  mirrors  and  plenty  of  lights,  and 
yet  more  lights.  Oh,  the  joy,  the  blessing  of  electric 
light!  I  think  every  woman  would  like  to  dress  al- 
ways by  a  blaze  of  electric  light,  and  be  seen  only  in 
the  soft  luminosity  of  candle  light- — how  lovely  we 
would  all  look,  to  be  sure !  It  is  a  great  thing  to  know 
the  worst  before  one  goes  out,  so  that  even  the  terrors 
of  the  arc  lights  before  our  theaters  will  be  powerless 
to  dismay  us. 

223 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

If  there  is  room  in  the  dressing-room,  there  should 
be  a  sofa  with  a  slip  cover  of  some  washable  fabric  that 
can  be  taken  off  when  necessary.  This  sofa  may  be 
the  simplest  wooden  frame,  with  a  soft  pad,  or  it  may 
be  a  chaise-longue  of  elegant  lines.  The  chaise-longue 
is  suitable  for  bedroom  or  dressing-room,  but  it  is  an 
especially  luxurious  lounging-place  when  you  are  hav- 
ing your  hair  done. 

A  man  came  to  me  just  before  Christmas,  and  said, 
"Do  tell  me  something  to  give  my  wife.  I  cannot 
think  of  a  thing  in  the  world  she  has  n't  already."  I 
asked,  "Is  she  a  lady  of  habits?"  "What!"  he  said, 
astonished.  "Does  she  enjoy  being  comfortable?"  I 
asked.  "Well,  rather!"  he  smiled.  And  so  I  sug- 
gested a  couvre-pieds  for  her  chaise-longue.  Now  I 
am  telling  you  of  the  couvre  pieds  because  I  know  all 
women  love  exquisite  things,  and  surely  nothing  could 
be  more  delicious  than  my  couvre-pieds.  Literally, 
it  is  a  "cover  for  the  feet,"  a  sort  of  glorified  and  di- 
minutive coverlet,  made  of  the  palest  of  pink  silk,  lined 
with  the  soft  long-haired  white  fur  known  as  moun- 
tain tibet,  and  interlined  with  down.  The  coverlet  is 
bordered  with  a  puffing  of  French  lace,  and  the  top  of 
it  is  encrusted  with  little  flowers  made  of  tiny  French 
picot  ribbons,  and  quillings  of  the  narrowest  of  lace. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  thrown  over  your  feet,  fur  side 
down,  when  you  are  resting  or  having  your  hair  done. 

You  may  devise  a  little  coverlet  for  your  own  sofa, 
whether  it  be  in  your  bedroom,  your  boudoir,  or  your 

224 


MISS  MORGAN'S  LOUIS  XVI.  DRESSING-ROOM 


THE  DRESSING-ROOM  AND  BATH 

dressing-room,  that  will  be  quite  as  useful  as  this  de- 
lectable couvre-pieds.  I  saw  some  amusing  ones  re- 
cently, made  of  gay  Austrian  silks,  lined  with  astonish- 
ing colors  and  bound  with  puffings  and  flutings  of  rib- 
bon of  still  other  colors.  A  coverlet  of  this  kind 
would  be  as  good  as  a  trip  away  from  home  for  the 
woman  who  is  bored  and  wearied.  No  matter  how 
drab  and  commonplace  her  house  might  be,  she  could 
devise  a  gay  quilt  of  one  of  the  enchanting  new  stuffs 
and  wrap  herself  in  it  for  a  holiday  hour.  One  of  the 
most  amusing  ones  was  of  turquoise  blue  silk,  with 
stiff  flowers  of  violet  and  sulphur  yellow  scattered  over 
it.  The  flowers  were  quite  large  and  far  apart,  so 
that  there  was  a  square  expanse  of  the  turquoise  blue 
with  a  stiff  flower  at  each  corner.  The  lining  was  of 
sulphur  yellow  silk,  and  the  binding  was  a  puffing  of 
violet  ribbons.  The  color  fairly  made  me  gasp,  at 
first,  but  then  it  became  fascinating,  and  finally  irre- 
sistible. I  sighed  as  I  thought  of  the  dreary  patch- 
work quilts  of  our  great-grandmothers.  How  they 
would  have  marveled  at  our  audacious  use  of  color, 
our  frank  joy  in  it! 

Of  course  the  most  important  thing  in  the  dressing- 
room  is  the  dressing-table.  I  place  my  dressing-ta- 
bles against  a  group  of  windows,  not  near  them,  when- 
ever it  is  possible.  I  have  used  plate  glass  tops  on 
many  of  them,  and  mirrors  for  tops  on  others,  for  you 
can't  have  too  many  mirrors  or  too  strong  a  light  for 
dressing.    We  must  see  ourselves  as  others  will  see  us. 

227 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

My  own  dressing-table  contains  many  drawers,  one 
of  which  is  fitted  with  an  ink-well,  a  tray  for  pens  and 
pencils,  and  a  sliding  shelf  on  which  I  write.  This 
obviates  going  into  another  room  to  answer  hurried 
notes  when  one  is  dressing.  Beside  the  dressing-table 
stands  the  tall  hat-stand  for  the  hat  I  may  be  wearing 
that  day. 

When  the  maid  prepares  the  dress  that  is  to 
be  worn,  she  puts  the  hat  that  goes  with  the  toi- 
lette on  the  tall  single  stand.  Another  idea  is  the  lit- 
tle hollow  table  on  casters  that  can  easily  be  slipped 
under  the  dressing-table,  where  it  is  out  of  the  way. 
All  the  little  ugly  things  that  make  one  lovely  can  be 
kept  in  this  table,  which  can  have  a  lid  if  desired,  and 
even  a  lock  and  key.  I  frequently  make  them  with 
a  glass  bottom,  as  they  do  not  get  stained  or  soiled,  and 
can  be  washed. 

There  are  lots  of  little  dodges  that  spell  comfort  for 
the  dressing-room  of  the  woman  who  wants  comfort 
and  can  have  luxury.  There  is  the  hot-water  towel- 
rack,  which  is  connected  with  the  hot-water  system  of 
the  house  and  which  heats  the  towels,  and  incidentally 
the  dressing-room.  This  a  boon  if  you  like  a  hot  bath 
sheet  after  a  cold  plunge  on  a  winter's  morning.  An- 
other modern  luxury  is  a  wall  cabinet  fitted  with  glass 
shelves  for  one's  bottles  and  sponges  and  powders. 
There  seems  to  be  no  end  to  the  little  luxuries  that  are 
devised  for  the  woman  who  makes  a  proper  toilet. 
Who  can  blame  her  for  loving  the  business  of  making 

228 


THE  DRESSING-ROOM  AND  BATH 

herself  attractive,  when  every  one  offers  her  encourage- 
ment? 

A  closet  is  absolutely  necessary  in  the  dressing-room, 
and  if  space  is  precious  every  inch  of  its  interior  may 
be  fitted  with  shelves  and  drawers  and  hooks,  so  that 
no  space  is  wasted.  The  outside  of  the  closet  door 
may  be  fitted  with  a  mirror,  and  narrow  shelves  just 
deep  enough  to  hold  one's  bottles,  may  be  fitted  on  the 
inside  of  the  door.  If  the  closet  is  very  shallow,  the 
inner  shelves  should  be  hollowed  out  to  admit  the  bot- 
tle shelves  when  the  door  is  closed.  Otherwise  the 
bottles  will  be  smashed  the  first  time  a  careless  maid 
slams  the  door.  This  bottle  closet  has  been  one  of  my 
great  successes  in  small  apartments,  where  bathroom 
and  dressing-room  are  one,  and  where  much  must  be 
accomplished  in  a  small  space. 

In  the  more  modern  apartments  the  tub  is  placed  in 
a  recess  in  the  wall  of  the  bathroom,  leaving  more 
space  for  dressing  purposes.  This  sort  of  combination 
dressing-room  should  have  waterproof  floor  and  wall, 
and  no  fripperies.  There  should  be  a  screen  large 
enough  to  conceal  the  tub,  and  a  folding  chair  that  may 
be  placed  in  the  small  closet  when  it  is  not  in  use. 

When  the  bathroom  is  too  small  to  admit  a  dressing- 
table  and  chair  and  the  bedroom  is  quite  large,  a  good 
plan  is  the  building  of  a  tiny  room  in  one  corner  of  the 
bedroom.  Of  course  this  little  dressing-box  must  have 
a  window.  I  have  used  this  plan  many  times  with  ex- 
cellent results.    Another  scheme,  when  the  problem 

229 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

was  entirely  different,  and  the  dressing-room  was  too 
large  for  comfort,  was  to  line  three  walls  of  it  with 
closets,  the  fourth  wall  being  filled  with  windows. 
These  closets  were  narrow,  each  having  a  mirrored 
panel  in  its  door.  This  is  the  ideal  arrangement,  for 
there  is  ample  room  for  all  one's  gowns,  shoes,  hats, 
veils,  gloves,  etc.,  each  article  having  its  own  specially 
planned  shelf  or  receptacle.  The  closets  are  painted 
in  gay  colors  inside,  and  the  shelves  are  fitted  with  thin 
perfumed  pads.  They  are  often  further  decorated 
with  bright  lines  of  color,  which  is  always  amusing  to 
the  woman  who  opens  a  door.  Hat  stands  and  bags 
are  covered  with  the  same  chintzes  employed  in  the 
dressing-room  proper.  Certain  of  the  closets  are  fitted 
with  the  English  tray  shelves,  and  each  tray  has  its 
sachet.  The  hangers  for  gowns  are  covered  in  the 
chintz  or  brocade  used  on  the  hat  stands.  This  makes 
an  effective  ensemble  whether  brocades  or  printed  cot- 
tons are  used,  if  the  arrangement  is  orderly  and  full  of 
gay  color. 

One  of  the  most  successful  gown  closets  I  have  done 
is  a  long  narrow  closet  with  a  door  at  each  end,  really  a 
passageway  between  a  bedroom  and  a  boudoir.  Long 
poles  run  the  length  of  the  closet,  with  curtains  that  en- 
close a  passage  from  door  to  door.  Back  of  these  cur- 
tains are  long  poles  that  may  be  raised  or  lowered  by 
pulleys.  Each  gown  is  placed  on  its  padded  hanger, 
covered  with  its  muslin  bag,  and  hung  on  the  pole. 
The  pole  is  then  drawn  up  so  that  the  tails  of  the  gowns 

230 


miss  marbury's  chintz-hung  dressing-table 


THE  DRESSING-ROOM  AND  BATH 

will  not  touch  the  dust  of  the  floor.  This  is  a  most 
orderly  arrangement  for  the  woman  of  many  gowns. 

The  straightaway  bathroom  that  one  finds  in  apart- 
ments and  small  houses  is  difficult  to  make  beautiful, 
but  may  be  made  airy  and  clean-looking,  which  is  more 
important.  I  had  to  make  such  a  bathroom  a  little 
more  attractive  recently,  and  it  was  a  very  pleasant 
job.  I  covered  the  walls  with  a  waterproof  stuff  of 
white,  figured  with  a  small  black  polkadot.  The 
woodwork  and  the  ceiling  were  painted  white.  All 
around  the  door  and  window  frames  I  used  a  two-inch 
border  of  ivy  leaves,  also  of  waterproof  paper,  and 
although  I  usually  abominate  borders  I  loved  this  one. 
A  plain  white  framed  mirror  was  also  painted  with 
green  ivy  leaves,  and  a  glass  shelf  above  the  wash 
bowl  was  fitted  with  glass  bottles  and  dishes  with  la- 
bels and  lines  of  clear  green.  White  muslin  curtains 
were  hung  at  the  window,  and  a  small  white  stool  was 
given  a  cushion  covered  with  green  and  white  ivy  pat- 
terned chintz.  The  floor  was  painted  white,  and  a 
solid  green  rug  was  used.  The  towels  were  cross- 
stitched  with  the  name  of  the  owner  in  the  same  bright 
green.  The  room,  when  finished,  was  cool  and  re- 
freshing, and  had  cost  very  little  in  money,  and  not  so 
very  much  in  time  and  labor. 

I  think  that  in  country  houses  where  there  is  not  a 
bathroom  with  each  bedroom  there  should  be  a  very 
good  washstand  provided  for  each  guest.  When  a 
house  party  is  in  progress,  for  instance,  and  every  one 

233 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

comes  in  from  tennis  or  golf  or  what  not,  eager  for  a 
bath  and  fresh  clothes,  washstands  are  most  convenient. 
Why  should  n't  a  washstand  be  just  as  attractively 
furnished  as  a  dressing-tabled  Just  because  they  have 
been  so  ugly  we  condemn  them  to  eternal  ugliness,  but 
it  is  quite  possible  to  make  the  washstand  interesting 
to  look  upon  as  well  as  serviceable.  It  is  n't  necessary 
to  buy  a  "set"  of  dreadful  crockery.  You  can  assem- 
ble the  necessary  things  as  carefully  as  you  would  as- 
semble the  outfit  for  your  writing-table.  Go  to  the 
pottery  shops,  the  glass  shops,  the  silversmiths,  and  you 
will  find  dozens  of  bowls  and  pitchers  and  small 
things.  A  clear  glass  bowl  and  pitcher  and  the  neces- 
sary glasses  and  bottles  can  be  purchased  at  any  depart- 
ment store.  The  French  peasants  make  an  apple- 
green  pottery  that  is  delightful  for  a  washstand  set. 
So  many  of  the  china  shops  have  large  shallow  bowls 
that  were  made  for  salad  and  punch,  and  pitchers  that 
were  made  for  the  dining-table,  but  there  is  no  reason 
why  they  should  n't  be  used  on  the  washstand.  I 
know  one  wash  basin  that  began  as  a  Russian  brass  pan 
of  flaring  rim.  With  it  is  used  an  old  water  can  of 
hammered  brass,  and  brass  dishes  glass  lined,  to  hold 
soaps  and  sponges.  It  is  only  necessary  to  desire  the 
unusual  thing,  and  you  '11  get  it,  though  much  searching 
may  intervene  between  the  idea  and  its  achievement. 

The  washstand  itself  is  not  such  a  problem.  A  pair 
of  dressing-tables  may  be  bought,  and  one  fitted  up  as 
a  washstand,  and  the  other  left  to  its  usual  use. 

234 


THE  DRESSING-ROOM  AND  BATH 

In  the  Colony  Club  there  are  a  number  of  bathrooms, 
but  there  are  also  washstands  in  those  rooms  that  have 
no  private  bath.  Each  bathroom  has  its  fittings 
planned  to  harmonize  with  the  connecting  bedroom, 
and  the  clear  glass  bottles  are  all  marked  in  the  color 
prevailing  in  the  bedroom.  Each  bathroom  has  a  full- 
length  mirror,  and  all  the  conveniences  of  a  bathroom 
in  a  private  house.  In  addition  to  these  rooms  there 
is  a  long  hall  filled  with  small  cabinets  de  toilette 
which  some  clever  woman  dubbed  "prinkeries." 
These  are  small  rooms  fitted  with  dressing-tables, 
where  out-of-town  members  may  freshen  their  toilets 
for  an  occasion.  These  little  prinkeries  would  be  ex- 
cellent in  large  country  houses,  where  there  are  so  many 
motoring  guests  who  come  for  a  few  hours  only,  dust- 
laden  and  travel-stained,  only  to  find  that  all  the  bed- 
rooms and  dressing-rooms  in  the  house  are  being  used 
by  the  family  and  the  house  guests. 

A  description  of  the  pool  of  the  Colony  Club  is 
hardly  within  the  province  of  this  chapter,  but  so  many 
amazing  Americans  are  building  themselves  great 
houses  incorporating  theaters  and  Roman  baths,  so 
many  women  are  building  club  houses,  so  many  others 
are  building  palatial  houses  that  are  known  as  girls' 
schools,  perhaps  the  swimming-pool  will  soon  be  a 
part  of  all  large  houses.  This  pool  occupies  the 
greater  part  of  the  basement  floor  of  the  Club  house, 
the  rest  of  the  floor  being  given  over  to  little  rooms 
where  one  may  have  a  shampoo  or  massage  or  a  dancing 

235 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

lesson  or  what  not  before  or  after  one's  swim.  The 
pool  is  twenty-two  by  sixty  feet,  sunken  below  the 
level  of  the  marble  floor.  The  depth  is  graded  from 
four  feet  to  deep  water,  so  that  good  and  bad  swimmers 
may  enjoy  it.  The  marble  margin  of  floor  surround- 
ing the  pool  is  bordered  with  marble  benches,  placed 
between  the  white  columns.  The  walls  of  the  great 
room  are  paneled  with  mirrors,  so  that  there  are  end- 
less reflections  of  columned  corridors  and  pools  and 
shimmering  lights.  The  ceiling  is  covered  with  a  light 
trellis  hung  with  vines,  from  which  hang  great  green- 
ish-white bunches  of  grapes  holding  electric  lights. 
One  gets  the  impression  of  myriads  of  white  columns, 
and  of  lights  and  shadows  infinitely  far-reaching. 
Surely  the  old  Romans  knew  no  pleasanter  place  than 
this  city-enclosed  pool. 


236 


XVI 


THE  SMALL  APARTMENT 

iHIS  is  the  age  of  the  apartment.    Not  only  in 


the  great  cities,  but  in  the  smaller  centers  of 


civilization  the  apartment  has  come  to  stay. 


Modern  women  demand  simplified  living,  and  the 
apartment  reduces  the  mechanical  business  of  living  to 
its  lowest  terms.  A  decade  ago  the  apartment  was  con- 
sidered a  sorry  makeshift  in  America,  though  it  has 
been  successful  abroad  for  more  years  than  you  would 
believe.  We  Americans  have  been  accustomed  to  so 
much  space  about  us  that  it  seemed  a  curtailment  of 
family  dignity  to  give  up  our  gardens,  our  piazzas  and 
halls,  our  cellars  and  attics,  our  front  and  rear 
entrances.  Now  we  are  wiser.  We  have  just  so 
much  time,  so  much  money  and  so  much  strength,  and 
it  behooves  us  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Why  should  we 
give  our  time  and  strength  and  enthusiasm  to  drudgery, 
when  our  housework  were  better  and  more  economically 
done  by  machinery  and  co-operation*?  Why  should 
we  stultify  our  minds  with  doing  the  same  things 
thousands  of  times  over,  when  we  might  help  our- 
selves and  our  friends  to  happiness  by  intelligent  occu- 
pations and  amusements?  The  apartment  is  the  solu- 
tion of  the  living  problems  of  the  city,  and  it  has  been 


237 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

a  direct  influence  on  the  houses  of  the  towns,  so  simpli- 
fying the  small-town  business  of  living  as  well. 

Of  course,  many  of  us  who  live  in  apartments  either 
have  a  little  house  or  a  big  one  in  the  country  for  the 
summer  months,  or  we  plan  for  one  some  day!  So 
hard  does  habit  die — we  cannot  entirely  divorce  our 
ideas  of  Home  from  gardens  and  trees  and  green  grass. 
But  I  honestly  think  there  is  a  reward  for  living  in  a 
slice  of  a  house:  women  who  have  lived  long  in  the 
country  sometimes  take  the  beauty  of  it  for  granted, 
but  the  woman  who  has  been  hedged  in  by  city  walls 
gets  the  fine  joy  of  out-of-doors  when  she  is  out  of 
doors,  and  a  pot  of  geraniums  means  more  to  her  than 
a  whole  garden  means  to  a  woman  who  has  been  denied 
the  privilege  of  watching  things  grow. 

The  modern  apartment  is  an  amazing  illustration  of 
the  rapid  development  of  an  idea.  The  larger  ones  are 
quite  as  magnificent  as  any  houses  could  be.  I  have 
recently  furnished  a  Chicago  apartment  that  included 
large  and  small  salons,  a  huge  conservatory,  and  a  great 
group  of  superb  rooms  that  are  worthy  of  a  palace. 
There  are  apartment  houses  in  New  York  that  offer 
suites  of  fifteen  to  twenty  rooms,  with  from  five  to  ten 
baths,  at  yearly  rentals  that  approximate  wealth  to  the 
average  man,  but  these  apartments  are  for  the  few,  and 
there  are  hundreds  of  thousands  of  apartments  for  the 
many  that  have  the  same  essential  conveniences. 

One  of  the  most  notable  achievements  of  the  apart- 
ment house  architects  is  the  duplex  apartment,  the  little 

238 


THE  SMALL  APARTMENT 

house  within  a  house,  with  its  two-story  high  living 
room,  its  mezzanine  gallery  with  service  rooms  ranged 
below  and  sleeping  rooms  above,  its  fine  height  and 
spaciousness.  Most  of  the  duplex  apartments  are  still 
rather  expensive,  but  some  of  them  are  to  be  had  at 
rents  that  are  comparatively  low — rents  are  always 
comparative,  you  know. 

Fortunately,  although  it  is  a  far  cry  financially  from 
the  duplex  apartment  to  the  tidy  three-room  flat  of  the 
model  tenements,  the  "modern  improvements"  are  very 
much  the  same.  The  model  tenement  offers  compact 
domestic  machinery,  and  cleanliness,  and  sanitary  com- 
forts at  a  few  dollars  a  week  that  are  not  to  be  had  at 
any  price  in  many  of  the  fine  old  houses  of  Europe. 
The  peasant  who  has  lived  on  the  plane  of  the  animals 
with  no  thought  of  cleanliness,  or  indeed  of  anything 
but  food  and  drink  and  shelter,  comes  over  here  and 
enjoys  improvements  that  our  stately  ancestors  of  a 
few  generations  ago  would  have  believed  magical. 
Enjoys  them — they  do  say  he  puts  his  coal  in  the  bath 
tub,  but  his  grandchildren  will  be  different,  perhaps ! 

But  enough  of  apartments  in  general.  This  chapter 
is  concerned  with  the  small  apartment  sought  by  you 
young  people  who  are  beginning  housekeeping.  You 
want  to  find  just  the  proper  apartment,  of  course,  and 
then  you  want  to  decorate  and  furnish  it.  Let  me  beg 
of  you  to  demand  only  the  actual  essentials:  a  decent 
neighborhood,  good  light  and  air,  and  at  least  one 
reasonably  large  room.    Don't  demand  perfection,  for 

239 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

you  won't  find  it.  Make  up  your  mind  just  what  will 
make  for  your  happiness  and  comfort,  and  demand  that. 
You  can  make  any  place  livable  by  furnishing  it  wisely. 
And,  oh,  let  me  beg  of  you,  don't  buy  your  furniture 
until  you  have  found  and  engaged  your  apartment! 
It  is  bad  enough  to  buy  furniture  for  a  house  you 
have  n't  seen,  but  an  apartment  is  a  place  of  limita- 
tions, and  you  can  so  easily  mar  the  place  by  buying 
things  that  will  not  fit  in.  An  apartment  is  so  depend- 
ent upon  proper  fittings,  skilfully  placed,  that  you  may 
ruin  your  chances  of  a  real  home  if  you  go  ahead 
blindly. 

Before  you  sign  your  lease,  be  sure  that  the  neighbor- 
hood is  not  too  noisy.  Be  sure  that  you  will  have 
plenty  of  light  and  air  and  heat.  You  can  interview 
the  other  tenants,  and  find  out  about  many  things  you 
have  n't  time  or  the  experience  to  anticipate.  Be  sure 
that  your  landlord  is  a  reasonable  human  being  who 
will  consent  to  certain  changes,  if  necessary,  who  will 
be  willing  for  you  to  build  in  certain  things,  who  will 
co-operate  with  you  in  improving  his  property,  if  you 
go  about  it  tactfully. 

Be  sure  that  the  woodwork  is  plain  and  unpreten- 
tious, that  the  lighting-fixtures  are  logically  placed,  and 
of  simple  construction.  (Is  there  anything  more  dread- 
ful than  those  colored  glass  domes,  with  fringes  of 
beads,  that  landlords  so  proudly  hang  over  the  imagi- 
nary dining- table  9)  Be  sure  that  the  plumbing  is  in 
good  condition,  and  beware  the  bedroom  on  an  air  shaft 

240 


THE  SMALL  APARTMENT 

— better  pay  a  little  more  rent  and  save  the  doctor's 
bills.  Beware  of  false  mantels,  and  grotesque  grille- 
work,  and  imitation  stained  glass,  and  grained  wood- 
work. You  could  n't  be  happy  in  a  place  that  was 
false  to  begin  with. 

Having  found  just  the  combination  of  rooms  that 
suggests  a  real  home  to  you,  go  slowly  about  your 
decorating. 

It  is  almost  imperative  that  the  woodwork  and 
walls  should  have  the  same  finish  throughout  the 
apartment,  unless  you  wish  to  find  yourself  living  in  a 
crazy-quilt  of  unfriendly  colors.  I  have  seen  four 
room  apartments  in  which  every  room  had  a  different 
wall  paper  and  different  woodwork.  The  "parlor" 
was  papered  with  poisonous-looking  green  paper,  with 
imitation  mahogany  woodwork;  the  dining-room  had 
walls  covered  with  red  burlap  and  near-oak  woodwork; 
the  bedroom  was  done  in  pink  satin  finished  paper  and 
bird's-eye  maple  woodwork,  and  the  kitchen  was  bilious 
as  to  woodwork,  with  bleak  gray  walls.  Could  any- 
thing be  more  mistaken? 

You  can  make  the  most  commonplace  rooms  livable 
if  you  will  paint  all  your  woodwork  cream,  or  gray,  or 
sage  green,  and  cover  your  walls  with  a  paper  of  very 
much  the  same  tone.  Real  hard  wood  trim  is  n't  used 
in  ordinary  apartments,  so  why  not  do  away  with  the 
badly-grained  imitation  and  paint  it?  You  can  look 
through  thousands  of  samples  of  wall  papers,  and  you 
will  finally  have  to  admit  that  there  is  nothing  better 

241 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

for  every  day  living  than  a  deep  cream,  a  misty  gray, 
a  tan  or  a  buff  paper. 

You  may  have  a  certain  license  in  the  papering  of 
your  bedrooms,  of  course,  but  the  living-rooms — hall, 
dining-room,  living-room,  drawing-room,  and  so  forth 
— should  be  pulled  together  with  walls  of  one  color. 
In  no  other  way  can  you  achieve  an  effect  of  spacious- 
ness— and  spaciousness  is  the  thing  of  all  other  things 
most  desirable  in  the  crowded  city.  You  must  have  a 
place  where  you  can  breathe  and  fling  your  arms  about ! 

When  you  have  it  really  ready  for  furnishing,  get 
the  essentials  first ;  do  with  a  bed  and  a  chest  of  drawers 
and  a  table  and  a  few  chairs,  and  add  things  gradually, 
as  the  rooms  call  for  them. 

Make  the  best  of  the  opportunities  offered  for  built- 
in  furniture  before  you  buy  another  thing.  If  you 
have  a  built-in  china  closet  in  your  dining-room,  you 
can  plan  a  graceful  built-in  console-table  to  serve  as  a 
buffet  or  serving-table,  and  you  will  require  only  a  good 
table — not  too  heavily  built— and  a  few  chairs  for  this 
room.  There  is  rarely  a  room  that  would  not  be  im- 
proved by  built-in  shelves  and  inset  mirrors. 

Of  course,  I  do  not  advise  you  to  spend  a  lot  of 
money  on  someone  else's  property,  but  why  not  look 
the  matter  squarely  in  the  face?  This  is  to  be  your 
home.  You  will  find  a  number  of  things  that  annoy 
you — life  in  any  city  furnishes  annoyances.  But  if 
you  have  one  or  two  reasonably  large  rooms,  plenty  of 
light  and  air,  and  respectable  surroundings,  make  up 

242 


THE  SMALL  APARTMENT 

your  mind  that  you  will  not  move  every  year.  That 
you  will  make  a  home  of  this  place,  and  then  go  ahead 
and  treat  it  as  a  home !  If  a  certain  recess  in  the  wall 
suggests  bookshelves,  don't  grudge  the  few  dollars  nec- 
essary to  have  the  bookshelves  built  in!  You  can 
probably  have  them  built  so  that  they  can  be  removed, 
on  that  far  day  when  this  apartment  is  no  longer  your 
home,  and  if  you  have  a  dreadful  wall  paper  don't  hide 
behind  the  silly  plea  that  the  landlord  will  not  change 
it.  Go  without  a  new  gown,  if  necessary,  and  pay 
for  the  paper  yourself. 

Few  apartments  have  fireplaces,  and  if  you  are  fortu- 
nate enough  to  find  one  with  a  real  fireplace  and  a 
simple  mantel  shelf  you  will  be  far  on  the  way  toward 
making  a  home  of  your  group  of  rooms.  Of  course 
your  apartment  is  heated  by  steam,  or  hot  air,  or  some- 
thing, but  an  open  fire  of  coal  or  wood  will  be  very 
pleasant  on  chilly  days,  and  more  important  still  your 
home  will  have  a  point  of  departure — the  Hearth. 

If  the  mantel  shelf  is  surmounted  by  one  of  those 
dreadful  monstrosities  made  up  of  gingerbread  wood- 
work and  distressing  bits  of  mirrors,  convince  your 
landlord  that  it  will  not  be  injured  in  the  removing, 
and  store  it  during  your  residence  here.  Have  the 
space  above  the  mantel  papered  like  the  rest  of  the 
walls,  and  hang  one  good  picture,  or  a  good  mirror,  or 
some  such  thing  above  your  mantel  shelf,  and  you  will 
have  offered  up  your  homage  to  the  Spirit  of  the 
Hearth. 

243 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

When  you  do  begin  to  buy  furniture,  buy  compactly, 
buy  carefully.  Remember  that  you  will  not  require 
the  furniture  your  mother  had  in  a  sixteen-room  house. 
You  will  have  no  hall  or  piazza  furnishings  to  buy, 
for  instance,  and  therefore  you  many  put  a  little  more 
into  your  living-room  things.  The  living-room  is  the 
nucleus  of  the  modern  apartment.  Sometimes  it  is 
studio,  living-room  and  dining-room  in  one.  Some- 
times living-room,  library  and  guest-room,  by  the 
grace  of  a  comfortable  sleeping-couch  and  a  certain 
amount  of  drawer  or  closet  space.  At  any  rate,  it  will 
be  more  surely  a  living-room  than  a  similar  room  in 
a  large  house,  and  therefore  everything  in  it  should 
count  for  something.  Do  not  admit  an  unnecessary 
rug,  or  chair,  or  picture,  lest  you  lose  the  spaciousness, 
the  dignity  of  the  room.  An  over-stuffed  chair  will 
fill  a  room  more  obviously  than  a  grand  piano — if  the 
piano  is  properly,  and  the  chair  improperly  placed. 

In  one  of  the  illustrations  of  this  chapter  you  will 
observe  a  small  sitting-room  in  which  there  are  dozens 
of  things,  and  yet  the  effect  is  quiet  and  uncrowded. 
The  secretary  against  the  plain  wall  serves  as  a  cabinet 
for  the  display  of  a  small  collection  of  fine  old  china, 
and  the  drawers  serve  the  chance  guest — for  while  this 
is  library  and  sitting-room,  it  has  a  most  comfortable 
couch  bed,  and  may  be  used  as  a  guest-room  as  well. 

The  bookshelves  are  built  high  on  each  side  of  the 
mantel  and  between  the  windows,  thus  giving  shelf 
room  to  a  goodly  collection  of  books,  with  no  appear- 

244 


THE  SMALL  APARTMENT 

ance  of  heaviness.  The  writing-table  is  placed  at  right 
angles  to  the  windows,  so  that  the  light  may  fall  on 
the  writer's  left  shoulder.  There  is  a  couch  bed — over 
three  feet  wide,  in  this  room,  with  frame  and  mattress 
and  pillows  covered  in  a  dark  brocaded  stuff,  and  a  fire- 
side chair,  a  small  chair  at  the  head  of  the  couch  and  a 
low  stool  all  covered  with  the  same  fabric.  It  really 
is  n't  a  large  room,  and  yet  it  abundantly  fills  a  dozen 
needs. 

I  think  it  unwise  to  try  to  work  out  a  cut-and-dried 
color  plan  in  a  small  apartment.  If  your  floors  and 
walls  are  neutral  in  tone  you  can  introduce  dozens  of 
soft  colors  into  your  rooms. 

Don't  buy  massive  furniture  for  your  apartment! 
Remember  that  a  few  good  chairs  of  willow  will  be 
less  expensive  and  more  decorative  than  the  heavy, 
stuffy  chairs  usually  chosen  by  inexperienced  people. 
Indeed,  I  think  one  big  arm  chair,  preferably  of  the 
wing  variety,  is  the  only  big  chair  you  will  require  in 
the  living-room.  A  fireside  chair  is  like  a  grandfather's 
clock;  it  gives  so  much  dignity  to  a  room  that  it  is 
worth  a  dozen  inferior  things.  Suppose  you  have  a 
wing  chair  covered  with  dull-toned  corduroy,  or  linen, 
or  chintz ;  a  large  willow  chair  with  a  basket  pocket  for 
magazines  or  your  sewing  things ;  a  stool  or  so  of  wood, 
with  rush  or  cane  seats ;  and  a  straight  chair  or  so — per- 
haps a  painted  Windsor  chair,  or  a  rush-bottomed 
mahogany  chair,  or  a  low-back  chair  of  brown  oak — 
depending  on  the  main  furniture  of  the  room,  of  course. 

247 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

You  won't  need  anything  more,  unless  you  have  space 
for  a  comfortable  couch. 

If  you  have  mahogany  things,  you  will  require  a 
little  mahogany  table  at  the  head  of  the  couch  to  hold 
a  reading-lamp — a  sewing-table  would  be  excellent. 
A  pie-crust  or  turn  top  table  for  tea,  or  possibly  a 
"nest"  of  three  small  mahogany  tables.  A  writing 
table  or  book  table  built  on  very  simple  lines  will  be 
needed  also.  If  you  happen  to  have  a  conventional 
writing-desk,  a  gate-leg  table  would  be  charming  for 
books  and  things. 

The  wing  chair  and  willow  chairs,  and  the  hour-glass 
Chinese  chairs,  will  go  beautifully  with  mahogany 
things  or  with  oak  things.  If  most  of  your  furniture 
is  to  be  oak,  be  sure  and  select  well-made  pieces  stained 
a  soft  brown  and  waxed.  Oak  furniture  is  delightful 
when  it  is  n't  too  heavy.  A  large  gate-leg  table  of 
dark  brown  oak  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  tables  in 
the  world.  With  it  you  would  need  a  bench  of  oak, 
with  cane  or  rush  seat;  a  small  octagonal,  or  butterfly 
oak  table  for  your  couch  end,  and  one  or  two  Windsor 
chairs.  Oak  demands  simple,  wholesome  surround- 
ings, just  as  mahogany  permits  a  certain  feminine 
elegance.  Oak  furniture  invites  printed  linens  and 
books  and  brass  and  copper  and  pewter  and  gay  china. 
While  mahogany  may  be  successfully  used  with  such 
things,  it  may  also  be  used  with  brocade  and  fragile 
china  and  carved  chairs. 
«  Use  chintzes  in  your  apartment,  if  you  wish,  but 

248 


THE  SMALL  APARTMENT 

do  not  risk  the  light  ones  in  living-rooms.  A  chintz  or 
printed  linen  of  some  good  design  on  a  ground  of 
mauve,  blue,  gray  or  black  will  decorate  your  apart- 
ment adequately,  if  you  make  straight  side  curtains  of 
it,  and  cover  one  chair  and  possibly  a  stool  with  it. 
Don't  carry  it  too  far.  If  your  rooms  are  small,  have 
your  side  curtains  of  coarse  linen  or  raw  silk  in  dull 
blue,  orange,  brown,  or  whatever  color  you  choose  as 
the  key  color  of  your  room,  and  then  select  a  dark 
chintz  with  your  chosen  color  dominant  in  its  design, 
and  cover  your  one  big  chair  with  that. 

The  apartment  hall  is  most  difficult,  usually  long 
and  narrow  and  uninteresting.  Don't  try  to  have 
furniture  in  a  hall  of  this  kind.  A  small  table  near 
the  front  door,  a  good  tile  for  umbrellas,  etc.,  a  good 
mirror — that  is  all.  Perhaps  a  place  for  coats  and 
hats,  but  some  halls  are  too  narrow  for  a  card  table. 

The  apartment  with  a  dining-room  entirely  separated 
from  the  living-room  is  very  unusual,  therefore  I  am 
hoping  that  you  will  apply  all  that  I  have  said  about 
the  treatment  of  your  living-room  to  your  dining-room 
as  well.  People  who  live  in  apartments  are  very 
foolish  if  they  cut  off  a  room  so  little  used  as  a  dining- 
room  and  furnish  it  as  if  it  belonged  to  a  huge  house. 
Why  not  make  it  a  dining-  and  book-room,  using  the 
big  table  for  reading,  between  meals,  and  having  your 
bookshelves  so  built  that  they  will  be  in  harmony  with 
your  china  shelves^  Keep  all  your  glass  and  silver 
and  china  in  the  kitchen,  or  butler's  pantry,  and  dis- 

249 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

play  only  the  excellent  things — the  old  china,  the 
pewter  tankard,  the  brass  caddy,  and  so  forth, — in  the 
dining-room. 

However,  if  you  have  a  real  dining-room  in  your 
apartment,  do  try  to  have  chairs  that  will  be  com- 
fortable, for  you  can't  afford  to  have  uncom- 
fortable things  in  so  small  a  space!  Windsor  chairs 
and  rush  bottom  chairs  are  best  of  all  for  a  simple 
dining-room,  I  think,  though  the  revival  of  painted 
furniture  has  brought  about  a  new  interest  in  the  old 
flare-back  chairs,  painted  with  dull,  soft  colored  posies 
on  a  ground  of  dull  green  or  gray  or  black.  These 
chairs  would  be  charming  in  a  small  cottage  dining- 
room,  but  they  might  not  "wear  well"  in  a  city  apart- 
ment. 

If  your  apartment  has  two  small  bedrooms,  why  not 
use  one  of  them  for  two  single  beds,  with  a  night  stand 
between,  and  the  other  for  a  dressing-room?  Apart- 
ment bedrooms  are  usually  small,  but  charming  furni- 
ture may  be  bought  for  small  rooms.  Single  beds  of 
mahogany  with  slender  posts;  beds  of  painted  wood 
with  inset  panels  of  cane ;  white  iron  beds,  wooden  beds 
painted  with  quaint  designs  on  a  ground  of  some  soft 
color — all  these  are  excellent  for  small  rooms.  It  goes 
without  saying  that  a  small  bedroom  should  have  plain 
walls,  papered  or  painted  in  some  soft  color.  Flowered 
papers,  no  matter  how  delightful  they  may  be,  make 
a  small  room  seem  smaller.  Self-toned  striped  papers 
and  the  "gingham"  papers  are  sometimes  very  good. 

250 


THE  SMALL  APARTMENT 

The  nicest  thing  about  such  modest  walls  is  that  you 
can  use  gay  chintz  with  them  successfully. 

Use  your  bedrooms  as  sleeping-  and  dressing-rooms, 
and  nothing  more.  Do  not  keep  your  sewing  things 
there — a  big  sewing-basket  will  add  to  the  homelike 
qualit)^  of  your  living-room.  Keep  the  bedroom  floor 
bare,  except  for  a  bedside  rug,  and  possibly  one  or  two 
other  rugs.  This,  of  course,  does  not  apply  to  the 
large  bedroom — I  am  prescribing  for  the  usual  small 
one.  Place  your  bed  against  the  side  wall,  so  that  the 
morning  light  will  not  be  directly  in  your  eyes.  A 
folding  screen  covered  with  chintz  or  linen  will  prove 
a  God-send. 

Perhaps  you  will  have  a  guest-room,  but  I  doubt  it. 
Most  women  find  it  more  satisfactory  and  less  expensive 
to  send  their  guests  to  a  nearby  hotel  than  to  keep  an 
extra  room  for  a  guest.  The  guest  room  is  impractical 
in  a  small  apartment,  but  you  can  arrange  to  take  care 
of  an  over-night  guest  by  planning  your  living-room 
wisely. 

As  for  the  kitchen — that  is  another  story.  It  is 
impossible  to  go  into  that  subject.  And  anyway,  you 
will  find  the  essentials  supplied  for  you  by  the  landlord. 
You  won't  need  my  advice  when  you  need  a  broom  or  a 
coffee  pot  or  a  saucepan — you  511  go  buy  it! 


253 


XVII 


REPRODUCTIONS  OF  ANTIQUE  FURNITURE 
AND  OBJECTS  OF  ART 

ONE  must  have  preserved  many  naive  illusions 
if  one  may  believe  in  all  the  "antiques"  that 
are  offered  in  the  marketplaces  of  the  world 
to-day.  Even  the  greatest  connoisseurs  are  caught 
napping  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  the  famous  crown 
supposedly  dating  to  the  Fifth  Century,  B.  C,  which 
was  for  a  brief  period  one  of  the  treasures  of  the 
Louvre.  Its  origin  was  finally  discovered,  and  great 
was  the  outcry!  It  had  been  traced  to  a  Viennese 
artisan,  a  worker  in  the  arts  and  crafts. 

Surely,  if  the  great  men  of  the  Louvre  could  be  so 
deceived  it  is  obvious  that  the  amateur  collector  has 
little  chance  at  the  hands  of  the  dealers  in  old  furniture 
and  other  objects  of  art.  Fortunately,  the  greatest 
dealers  are  quiet  honest.  They  tell  you  frankly  if  the 
old  chair  you  covet  is  really  old,  if  it  has  been  partially 
restored,  or  if  it  is  a  copy,  and  they  charge  you  accord- 
ingly. At  these  dealers  a  small  table  of  the  Louis  XVI 
period,  or  a  single  chair  covered  in  the  original  tap- 
estry, may  cost  as  much  as  a  man  in  modest  circum- 
stances would  spend  on  his  whole  house.  Almost 
everything  outside  these  princely  shops  (salons  is  a 

254 


MRS.  C.  W.  HARKNESS'S  CABINET  FOR  OBJETS  D'ART 


ANTIQUE  FURNITURE 

better  word)  is  false,  or  atrociously  restored.  Please 
remember  I  am  not  referring  to  reputable  dealers,  but 
to  the  smaller  fry,  whose  name  is  legion,  in  whose 
shops  the  unwary  seeker  after  bargains  is  sure  to  be 
taken  in. 

Italy  is,  I  think,  the  greatest  workshop  of  fraudulent 
reproductions.  It  has  an  output  that  all  Europe  and 
America  can  never  exhaust.  Little  children  on  the 
streets  of  Naples  still  find  simpletons  of  ardent  faith 
who  will  buy  scraps  of  old  plaster  and  bits  of  paving 
stones  that  are  alleged  to  have  been  excavated  in 
Pompeii. 

In  writing  about  antiques  it  is  not  easy  to  be  con- 
sistent, and  any  general  conclusion  is  impossible. 
Certain  reproductions  are  objectionable,  and  yet  they 
are  certainly  better  than  poor  originals,  after  all.  The 
simplest  advice  is  the  best  and  easiest  to  follow: 
The  less  a  copy  suggests  an  attempt  at  "artistic  repro- 
duction," the  more  literal  and  mechanical  it  is  in  its 
copy  of  the  original,  the  better  it  is.  A  good  photo- 
graph of  a  fine  old  painting  is  superior  to  the  average 
copy  in  oils  or  watercolors.  A  chair  honestly  copied 
from  a  worm  eaten  original  is  better  for  domestic  pur- 
pose than  the  original.  The  original,  the  moment  its 
usefulness  is  past,  belongs  in  a  museum.  A  plaster 
cast  of  a  great  bust  is  better  than  the  same  object  copied 
in  marble  or  bronze  by  an  average  sculptor.  And  so  it 
goes.    Think  it  out  for  yourself. 

It  may  be  argued  that  the  budding  collector  is  as 

257 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

happy  with  a  false  object  and  a  fake  bauble  as  if  he 
possessed  the  real  thing,  and  therefore  it  were  better 
to  leave  him  to  his  illusions;  that  it  is  his  own  fault; 
that  it  is  so  much  the  worse  for  him  if  he  is  deceived. 
But — you  can't  leave  the  innocent  lamb  to  the  slaugh- 
ter, if  you  can  give  him  a  helping  hand.  If  he  must  be 
a  collector,  let  him  be  first  a  collector  of  the  many  excel- 
lent books  now  published  on  old  furniture,  china,  rugs, 
pewter,  silver,  prints,  the  things  that  will  come  his  way. 
You  can't  begin  collecting  one  thing  without  develop- 
ing an  enthusiasm  for  the  contemporary  things.  Let 
him  study  the  museum  collections,  visit  the  private  col- 
lections, consult  recognized  experts.  If  he  is  serious, 
he  will  gradually  acquire  the  intuition  of  knowing  the 
genuine  from  the  false,  the  worth-while  from  the 
worthless,  and  once  he  has  that  knowledge,  instinct, 
call  it  what  you  will,  he  can  never  be  satisfied  with 
imitations. 

The  collection  and  association  of  antiques  and  repro- 
ductions should  be  determined  by  the  collector's  sense 
of  fitness,  it  seems  to  me.  Every  man  should  depend 
on  whatever  instinct  for  Tightness,  for  suitability,  he 
may  possess.  If  he  finds  that  he  dare  not  risk  his  in- 
dividual opinion,  then  let  him  be  content  with  the 
things  he  knows  to  be  both  beautiful  and  useful, 
and  leave  the  subtler  decisions  for  someone  else.  For 
instance,  there  are  certain  objects  that  are  obviously  the 
better  for  age,  the  objects  that  are  softened  and  refined 
by  a  bloom  that  comes  from  usage. 

258 


ANTIQUE  FURNITURE 

An  old  rug  has  a  softness  that  a  new  one  cannot  imi- 
tate. An  old  copper  kettle  has  an  uneven  quality  that 
has  come  from  years  of  use.  A  new  kettle  may  be 
quite  as  useful,  but  age  has  given  the  old  one  a  certain 
quality  that  hanging  and  pounding  cannot  reproduce. 
A  pewter  platter  that  has  been  used  for  generations 
is  dulled  and  softened  to  a  glow  that  a  new  platter 
cannot  rival. 

What  charm  is  to  a  woman,  the  vague  thing  called 
quality  is  to  an  object  of  art.  We  feel  it,  though  we 
may  not  be  able  to  explain  it.  An  old  Etruscan  jar 
may  be  reproduced  in  form,  but  it  would  be  silly  to 
attempt  the  reproduction  of  the  crudenesses  that  gave 
the  old  jar  its  real  beauty.  In  short,  objects  that 
depend  on  form  and  fine  workmanship  for  their  beauty 
may  be  successfully  reproduced,  but  objects  that 
depend  on  imperfections  of  workmanship,  on  the  crude- 
ness  of  primitive  fabrics,  on  the  fading  of  vegetable 
dyes,  on  the  bloom  that  age  alone  can  give,  should  not 
be  imitated.  We  may  introduce  a  reproduction  of  a 
fine  bust  into  our  rooms,  but  an  imitation  of  a  Persian 
tile  or  a  Venetian  vase  is  absurd  on  the  face  of  it. 

The  antiques  the  average  American  householder  is 
interested  in  are  the  old  mahogany,  oak  and  walnut 
things  that  stand  for  the  oldest  period  of  our  own 
particular  history.  It  is  only  the  wealthy  collector 
who  goes  abroad  and  buys  masses  of  old  European 
furniture,  real  or  sham,  who  is  concerned  with  the 
merits  and  demerits  of  French  and  Italian  furniture. 

2?9 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

The  native  problem  is  the  so-called  Colonial  mahogany 
that  is  always  alleged  to  be  Chippendale  or  Heppel- 
white,  or  Sheraton,  regardless!  There  must  be  thou- 
sands of  these  alleged  antiques  in  New  York  shops 
alone ! 

It  goes  without  saying  that  only  a  very  small 
part  of  it  can  be  really  old.  As  for  it  having  been 
made  by  the  men  whose  names  it  bears,  that  is  some- 
thing no  reputable  dealer  would  affirm.  The  Chippen- 
dales, father,  son  and  grandson,  published  books  of 
designs  which  were  used  by  all  the  furniture-makers  of 
their  day. 

No  one  can  swear  to  a  piece  of  furniture  having 
been  made  in  the  workshops  of  the  Chippendales. 
Even  the  pieces  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  are 
marked  "Chippendale  Style"  or  "In  the  Sheraton 
manner,"  or  some  such  way.  If  the  furniture  is  in  the 
style  of  these  makers,  and  if  it  is  really  old,  you  will 
pay  a  small  fortune  for  it.  But  even  then  you  cannot 
hope  to  get  more  than  you  pay  for,  and  you  would  be 
very  silly  to  pay  for  a  name !  After  all,  Chippendale 
is  a  sort  of  god  among  amateur  collectors  of  American 
furniture,  but  among  more  seasoned  collectors  he  is  not 
by  any  means  placed  first.  He  adapted  and  borrowed 
and  produced  some  wonderful  things,  but  he  also  pro- 
duced some  monstrosities,  as  you  will  see  if  you  visit 
the  English  museums. 

Why  then  lend  yourself  to  possible  deception? 
Why  pay  for  names  when  museums  are  unable  to  buy 

260 


ANTIQUE  FURNITURE 

them?  If  your  object  is  to  furnish  your  home  suitably, 
what  need  have  you  of  antiques  ? 

The  serious  amateur  will  fight  shy  of  miracles.  If 
he  admires  the  beauty  of  line  of  a  fine  old  Heppelwhite 
bed  or  Sheraton  sideboard,  he  will  have  reproductions 
made  by  an  expert  cabinet-maker.  The  new  piece 
will  not  have  the  soft  darkness  of  the  old,  but  the 
owner  will  be  planning  that  soft  darkness  for  his 
grandchildren,  and  in  the  meantime  he  will  have  a 
beautiful  thing  to  live  with.  The  age  of  a  piece  of 
furniture  is  of  great  value  to  a  museum,  but  for  do- 
mestic purposes,  use  and  beauty  will  do.  How  fine 
your  home  will  be  if  all  the  things  within  it  have  those 
qualities ! 

Look  through  the  photographs  shown  on  these  pages : 
there  are  many  old  chairs  and  tables,  but  there  are  more 
new  ones.  I  am  not  one  of  these  decorators  who  in- 
sist on  originals.  I  believe  good  reproductions  are 
more  valuable  than  feeble  originals,  unless  you  are 
buying  your  furniture  as  a  speculation.  You  can  buy 
a  reproduction  of  a  Chippendale  ladder  back  chair  for 
about  twenty-five  dollars,  but  an  original  chair  would 
cost  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty,  and  then  it  would  be 
"in  the  style  and  period  of  Chippendale."  It  might 
amuse  you  to  ask  the  curator  of  one  of  the  British  mu- 
seums the  price  of  one  of  the  Chippendales  by  Chippen- 
dale. It  would  buy  you  a  tidy  little  acreage.  Stuart 
and  Cromwellian  chairs  are  being  more  and  more  repro- 
duced.   These  chairs  are  made  of  oak,  the  Stuart  ones 

261 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

with  seats  and  backs  of  cane,  the  Cromwellian  ones 
with  seats  and  backs  of  tapestry,  needlework,  corded 
velvet,  or  some  such  handsome  fabric.  These  repro- 
ductions may  be  had  at  from  twenty-five  to  seventy-five 
dollars  each.  Of  course,  the  cost  of  the  Cromwellian 
chairs  might  be  greatly  increased  by  expensive  cover- 
ings. 

There  is  a  graceful  Louis  XV  sofa  in  the  Petit 
Trianon  that  I  have  copied  many  times.  The  copy  is 
as  beautiful  as  the  original,  because  this  sort  of  furni- 
ture depends  upon  exquisite  design  and  perfect  work- 
manship for  its  beauty.  It  is  possible  that  a  modern 
craftsman  might  not  have  achieved  so  graceful  a  design, 
but  the  perfection  of  his  workmanship  cannot  be  gain- 
said. The  frame  of  the  sofa  must  be  carved  and 
then  painted  and  guilded  many  times  before  it  is  ready 
for  the  brocade  covering,  and  the  cost  of  three  hundred 
dollars  for  the  finished  sofa  is  not  too  much.  The 
original  could  not  be  purchased  at  any  price. 

Then  there  is  the  Chinese  lacquer  furniture  of  the 
Chippendale  period  that  we  are  using  so  much  now. 
The  process  of  lacquering  is  as  tedious  to-day  as  it 
ever  was,  and  the  reproductions  sell  for  goodly  sums. 
A  tall  secretary  of  black  and  gold  lacquer  may  cost 
six  hundred  dollars.  You  can  imagine  what  an 
Eighteenth  Century  piece  would  cost ! 

The  person  who  said  that  a  taste  for  old  furniture 
and  bibelots  was  "worse  than  a  passion,  it  was  a  vice," 
was  certainly  near  the  truth!    It  is  an  absorbing 

262 


ANTIQUE  FURNITURE 

pursuit,  an  obsession,  and  it  grows  with  what  it  feeds 
on.  As  in  objects  of  art,  so  in  old  furniture,  the  supply 
will  always  equal  the  demand  of  the  unwary.  The 
serious  amateur  will  fight  shy  of  all  miracles  and  con- 
tent himself  with  excellent  reproductions.  Nothing 
later  than  the  furniture  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  is 
included  in  the  term,  "old  furniture."  There  are 
many  fine  cabinet  makers  in  the  early  Nineteenth  Cen- 
tury, but  from  them  until  the  last  decade  the  horrors 
that  were  perpetrated  have  never  been  equaled  in  the 
history  of  household  decorations. 

I  fancy  the  furniture  of  the  mid- Victorian  era  will 
never  be  coveted  by  collectors,  unless  someone  should 
build  a  museum  for  the  freakish  objects  of  house  fur- 
nishing. America  could  contribute  much  to  such  a 
collection,  for  surely  the  black  walnut  era  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century  will  never  be  surpassed  in  ugliness  and 
bad  taste,  unless — rare  fortune — there  should  be  a 
sudden  epidemic  of  appreciation  among  cabinet-makers, 
which  would  result  in  their  taking  the  beautiful  wood 
in  the  black  walnut  beds  and  wardrobes  and  such  and 
make  it  over  into  worth-while  things.  It  would  be  a 
fine  thing  to  release  the  mistreated,  velvety  wood  from 
its  grotesqueries,  and  give  it  a  renaissance  in  graceful 
cabinets,  small  tables,  footstools,  and  the  many  small 
things  that  could  be  so  easily  made  from  huge  un- 
wieldy wardrobes  and  beds  and  bureaux. 

The  workmen  of  to-day  have  their  eyes  opened. 
They  have  no  excuse  for  producing  unworthy  things, 

263 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

when  the  greatest  private  collections  are  loaned  or 
given  outright  to  the  museums.  The  new  wing  of  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  in  New  York  houses  several 
fine  old  collections  of  furniture,  the  Hoentschel  collec- 
tion, for  which  the  wing  was  really  planned,  having 
been  given  to  the  people  of  New  York  by  Mr.  Pierpont 
Morgan.  This  collection  is  an  education  in  the  French 
decorative  arts.  Then,  too,  there  is  the  Bolles  collec- 
tion of  American  furniture  presented  to  the  museum  by 
Mrs.  Russell  Sage. 

I  have  no  quarrel  with  the  honest  dealers  who  are 
making  fine  and  sincere  copies  of  such  furniture,  and 
selling  them  as  copies.  There  is  no  deception  here,  we 
must  respect  these  men  as  we  respect  the  workers  of 
the  Eighteenth  Century :  we  give  them  respect  for  their 
masterly  workmanship,  their  appreciation  of  the  best 
things,  and  their  fidelity  to  the  masterpieces  they  re- 
produce. 

Not  so  long  ago  the  New  York  papers  published  the 
experience  of  a  gentleman  who  bought  a  very  beautiful 
divan  in  a  European  furniture  shop.  He  paid  for  it— 
you  may  be  sure  of  that! — and  he  could  hardly  wait 
for  its  arrival  to  show  it  to  his  less  fortunate  neighbors. 
Within  a  few  months  something  happened  to  the  lining 
of  the  divan,  and  he  discovered  on  the  inside  of  the 
frame  the  maker's  name  and  address.  Imagine  his 
chagrin  when  he  found  that  the  divan  had  been  made 
at  a  furniture  factory  in  his  own  country.  You  can't 
be  sorry  for  him,  you  feel  that  it  served  him  right. 

264 


A  CHINESE  CHIPPENDALE  SOFA  COVERED  WITH  CHINTZ 


ANTIQUE  FURNITURE 

This  is  an  excellent  example  of  the  vain  collector 
who  cannot  judge  for  himself,  but  will  not  admit  it. 
He  has  not  developed  his  sense  of  beauty,  his  instinct 
for  excellence  of  workmanship.  He  thinks  that  be- 
cause he  has  the  money  to  pay  for  the  treasure,  the 
treasure  must  be  genuine — has  n't  he  chosen  it^ 

I  can  quite  understand  the  pleasure  that  goes  with 
furnishing  a  really  old  house  with  objects  of  the  period 
in  which  the  house  was  built.  A  New  England  farm- 
house, for  instance,  may  be  an  inspiration  to  the  owner, 
and  you  can  understand  her  quest  of  old  fashioned  rush 
bottomed  chairs  and  painted  settles  and  quaint  mirrors 
and  blue  homespun  coverlets.  You  can  understand 
the  man  who  falls  heir  to  a  good,  square  old  Colonial 
house  who  wishes  to  keep  his  furnishings  true  to  the 
period,  but  you  cannot  understand  the  crying  need  for 
Eighteenth  Century  furniture  in  a  modern  shingle 
house,  or  the  desire  for  old  spinning  wheels  and  bat- 
tered kitchen  utensils  in  a  Spanish  stucco  house,  or 
Chippendale  furniture  in  a  forest  bungalow. 

I  wish  people  generally  would  study  the  oak  and 
walnut  furniture  of  old  England,  and  use  more  repro- 
ductions of  these  honest,  solid  pieces  of  furniture  in 
their  houses.  Its  beauty  is  that  it  is  "at  home"  in 
simple  American  houses,  and  yet  by  virtue  of  its  very 
usefulness  and  sturdiness  it  is  not  out  of  place  in  a 
room  where  beautiful  objects  of  other  periods  are  used. 
The  long  oak  table  that  is  so  comfortably  ample  for 
books  and  magazines  and  flowers  in  your  living-room 

267 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

may  be  copied  from  an  old  refectory  table — but  what 
of  it?  It  fulfils  its  new  mission  just  as  frankly  as  the 
original  table  served  the  monks  who  used  it. 

The  soft  brown  of  oak  is  a  pleasure  after  the  over- 
polished  mahogany  of  a  thousand  rooms.  I  do  not  wish 
to  condemn  Colonial  mahogany  furniture,  you  under- 
stand. I  simply  wish  to  remind  you  that  there  are 
other  woods  and  models  available.  French  furniture 
of  the  best  type  represents  the  supreme  art  of  the  cab- 
inet-maker, and  is  incomparable  for  formal  rooms,  but 
I  am  afraid  the  time  will  never  come  when  French 
furniture  will  be  interchangeable  with  the  oak  and 
mahogany  of  England  and  America. 

In  short,  the  whole  thing  should  be  a  matter  of  taste 
and  suitability.  If  you  have  a  few  fine  old  things  that 
have  come  to  you  from  your  ancestors — a  grandfather's 
clock,  an  old  portrait  or  two — you  are  quite  justified  in 
bringing  good  reproductions  of  similar  things  into  your 
home.  The  effect  is  the  thing  you  are  after,  is  n't  it? 
Then,  too,  you  will  escape  the  awful  fever  that  makes 
any  antique  seem  desirable,  and  in  buying  reproductions 
you  can  select  really  comfortable  furniture.  You  will 
be  independent  of  the  dreadful  vases  and  candelabra 
and  steel  engravings  "of  the  period,"  and  will  feel  free 
to  use  modern  prints  and  Chinese  porcelains  and  willow 
chairs  and  anything  that  fits  into  your  home.  I  can 
think  of  no  slavery  more  deadly  to  one's  sense  of  humor 
than  collecting  antiques  indiscriminately ! 

268 


XVIII 


THE  ART  OF  TRELLTAGE 

WHEN  I  planned  the  trellis  room  of  the  Col- 
ony Club  in  New  York  I  had  hard  work 
finding  workmen  who  could  appreciate  the 
importance  of  crossing  and  recrossing  little  strips 
of  green  wood,  of  arranging  them  to  form  a  mural  dec- 
oration architectural  in  treatment.  This  trellis  room 
was,  I  believe,  the  first  in  America  to  be  so  considered, 
though  the  use  of  trellis  is  as  old  as  architecture  in  Ja- 
pan, China,  Arabia,  Egypt,  Italy,  France  and  Spain. 

The  earliest  examples  of  trellis  work  shown  are  in 
certain  Roman  frescoes.  In  Pompeii  the  mural  paint- 
ings give  us  a  very  good  idea  of  what  some  of  the  Ro- 
man gardens  were  like.  In  the  entrance  hall  of  the 
house  of  Sallust  is  represented  a  garden  with  trellised 
niches  and  bubbling  fountains.  Representations  that 
have  come  down  to  us  in  documents  show  that  China 
and  Japan  both  employed  the  trellis  in  their  decorative 
schemes.  You  will  find  a  most  daring  example  on 
your  old  blue  willow  plate,  if  you  will  look  closely 
enough.  The  bridge  over  which  the  flying  princess 
goes  to  her  lover  is  a  good  model,  and  could  be  built  in 
many  gardens.  Even  a  tiny  modern  garden,  yours  or 
mine,  might  hold  this  fairy  bridge. 

271 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

Almost  all  Arabian  decorations  have  their  basis  in 
trellis  design  or  arabesques  filled  in  with  the  intricate 
tracery  that  covers  all  their  buildings.  If  we  examine 
the  details  of  the  most  famous  of  the  old  Moorish 
buildings  that  remain  to  us,  the  mosque  at  Cordova 
and  the  Alhambra  at  Granada,  we  shall  find  them  full 
of  endless  trellis  suggestions.  Indeed,  there  are  many 
documents  still  extant  showing  how  admirably  trellis 
decoration  lends  itself  to  the  decoration  of  gardens  and 
interiors.  There  are  dozens  of  examples  of  niches 
built  to  hold  fine  busts.  Pavilions  and  summer 
houses,  the  quaint  gazebos  of  old  England,  the  grace- 
ful screens  of  trellis  that  terminate  a  long  garden  path, 
the  arching  gateways  crowned  with  vines — all  these 
may  be  reproduced  quite  easily  in  American  gardens. 

The  first  trellis  work  in  France  was  inspired  by 
Italy,  but  the  French  gave  it  a  perfection  of  archi- 
tectural character  not  found  in  other  countries.  The 
manuscript  of  the  "Romance  of  the  Rose,"  dating 
back  to  the  Fifteenth  Century,  contains  the  finest  pos- 
sible example  of  trellis  in  a  medieval  garden.  Most 
of  the  old  French  gardens  that  remain  to  us  have  im- 
portant trellis  construction.  At  Blois  one  still  sees 
the  remains  of  a  fine  trellis  covering  the  walls  of  the 
kitchen  gardens.  Wonderful  and  elaborate  trellis 
pavilions,  each  containing  a  statue,  often  formed  the 
centers  of  very  old  gardens.  These  garden  houses 
were  called  gazebos  in  England,  and  temples  d? Amour 
(Temples  of  Love)  in  France,  and  the  statue  most 

272 


THE  ART  OF  TRELLIAGE 

often  seen  was  the  god  of  Love.  In  the  Trianon  gar- 
dens at  Versailles  there  is  a  charming  Temple  d' Amour 
standing  on  a  tiny  island,  with  four  small  canals  lead- 
ing to  it. 

A  knowledge  of  the  history  of  trelliage  and  an  ap- 
preciation of  its  practical  application  to  modern  needs 
is  a  conjurer's  wand — you  can  wave  it  and  create  all 
sorts  of  ephemeral  constructions  that  will  last  your 
time  and  pleasure.  You  may  give  your  trellis  any 
poetic  shape  your  vision  may  take.  You  may  dream 
and  realize  enchanting  gardens,  with  clipped  hedges 
and  trellis  walls.  You  may  transform  a  commonplace 
porch  into  a  gay  garden  room,  with  a  few  screens  of 
trellis  and  many  flower  boxes  of  shrubs  and  vines. 
Here  indeed  is  a  delightful  medium  for  your  fancy! 

Trelliage  and  lattice  work  are  often  used  as  inter- 
changeable terms,  but  mistakenly,  for  any  carpenter 
who  has  the  gift  of  precision  can  build  a  good  lattice, 
but  a  trellis  must  have  architectural  character.  Trel- 
lis work  is  not  necessarily  flimsy  construction ;  the  light 
chestnut  laths  that  were  used  by  the  old  Frenchmen 
and  still  remain  to  us  prove  that. 

Always  in  a  garden  I  think  one  must  feel  one  has  not 
come  to  the  end,  one  must  go  on  and  on  in  search  of 
new  beauties  and  the  hidden  delights  we  feel  sure  must 
be  behind  the  clipped  hedges  or  the  trellis  walls.  Even 
when  we  come  to  the  end  we  are  not  quite  sure  it  is 
the  end,  and  we  steep  ourselves  in  seclusion  and  quiet, 
knowing  full  well  that  to-morrow  or  to-night  perhaps 

273 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

when  the  moon  is  up  and  we  come  back  as  we  promise 
ourselves  to  do,  surely  we  shall  see  that  ideal  corner 
that  is  the  last  word  of  the  perfection  of  our  dream 
garden — that  delectable  spot  for  which  we  forever 
seek! 

We  can  bring  back  much  of  the  charm  of  the  old- 
time  gardens  by  a  judicious  use  of  trellis.  It  is  suit- 
able for  every  form  of  outdoor  construction.  A  new 
garden  can  be  subdivided  and  made  livable  in  a  few 
months  with  trellis  screens,  where  hedges,  even  of  the 
quick  growing  privet,  would  take  years  to  grow.  The 
entrance  to  the  famous  maze  at  Versailles,  now,  alas, 
utterly  destroyed,  was  in  trellis,  and  I  have  reproduced 
in  our  own  garden  at  Villa  Trianon,  in  Versailles,  the 
entrance  arch  and  doors,  all  in  trellis.  Our  high  gar- 
den fence  with  its  curving  gate  is  also  in  trellis,  and 
you  can  imagine  the  joy  with  which  we  watched  the 
vines  grow,  climbing  over  the  gatetop  as  gracefully 
as  if  they  too  felt  the  charm  of  the  curving  tracery 
of  green  strips,  and  cheerfully  added  the  decoration 
of  their  leaves  and  tendrils. 

Our  outdoor  trellis  is  at  the  end  of  the  Villa  Tri- 
anon garden,  in  line  with  the  terrace  where  we  take 
our  meals.  This  trellis  was  rebuilt  many  times  before 
it  satisfied  me,  but  now  it  is  my  greatest  joy.  The 
niches  are  planned  to  hold  two  old  statues  and  several 
prim  box  trees.  I  used  very  much  the  same  construct- 
ive design  on  one  of  the  walls  of  the  Colony  Club 
trellis  room,  but  there  a  fountain  has  the  place  of 

274 


THE  ART  OF  TRELLIAGE 

honor.  Formal  pedestals  surmounted  by  gracefully 
curved  urns,  box  trees,  statues,  marble  benches,  foun- 
tains— all  these  belong  to  the  formal  outdoor  trellis. 

The  trellis  is  primarily  suitable  for  garden  archi- 
tecture, but  it  may  be  fitted  to  interior  uses  most  skil- 
fully. Pictures  of  the  trellis  room  in  the  Colony  Club 
have  been  shown  so  often  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat 
more  than  one  of  them.  The  room  is  long  and  high, 
with  a  floor  of  large  red  tiles.  The  walls  and  ceiling 
are  covered  with  rough  gray  plaster,  on  which  the 
green  strips  of  wood  are  laid.  The  wall  space  is  en- 
tirely covered  with  the  trellis  design  broken  into  ovals 
which  hold  lighting-fixtures — grapes  and  leaves  in 
cloudy  glass  and  green  enamel.  The  long  room  leads 
up  to  the  ivy-covered  trellis  of  the  fountain  wall,  a 
perfect  background  for  the  fountain,  a  bowl  on  the 
brim  of  which  is  poised  a  youthful  figure,  upheld  by 
two  dolphins.  The  water  spills  over  into  a  little  pool, 
banked  with  evergreens.  Ivy  has  been  planted  in  long 
boxes  along  the  wall,  and  climbs  to  the  ceiling,  where 
the  plaster  is  left  bare,  save  for  the  trellised  cornice 
and  the  central  trellis  medallion,  from  which  is  sus- 
pended an  enchanting  lantern  made  up  of  green  wires 
and  ivy  leaves  and  little  white  flames  of  electric  light. 

The  roof  garden  of  the  Colony  Club  is  latticed  in  a 
simple  design  we  all  know.  This  is  lattice,  not  trellis, 
and  in  no  way  should  be  confounded  with  the  trellis 
room  on  the  entrance  floor.  This  white-painted  lat- 
tice covers  the  wall  space.    Growing  vines  are  placed 

277 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

along  the  walls  and  clamber  to  the  beams.  The  glass 
ceiling  is  supported  by  white  beams.  There  are  al- 
ways blossoming  flowers  and  singing  birds  in  this  room. 
The  effect  is  springlike  and  joyous  on  the  bleakest 
winter  day.  The  room  is  heated  by  two  huge  stoves 
of  green  Majolica  brought  over  from  Germany  when 
other  heating  systems  failed.  Much  of  the  furniture 
is  covered  with  a  grape-patterned  chintz  and  a  green 
and  white  striped  linen.  The  ceiling  lights  are  hidden 
in  huge  bunches  of  pale  green  grapes. 

I  recently  planned  a  most  beautiful  trellis  room  for 
a  New  York  City  house.  The  room  is  long  and  nar- 
row, with  walls  divided  into  panels  by  upright 
classic  columns.  The  lower  wall  space  between  the 
columns  is  covered  with  a  simple  green  lattice,  and  the 
upper  part  is  filled  with  little  mirrors  framed  in  nar- 
row green  moldings,  arranged  in  a  conventional  de- 
sign which  follows  the  line  of  the  trellis.  One  end 
of  the  room  is  made  up  of  two  narrow  panels  of  the 
trellis  with  a  fireplace  between.  On  the  opposite  wall 
the  middle  panel  is  a  background  for  a  delightful  wall 
fountain.  The  fretwork  of  mirrors  which  takes  the 
place  of  frieze  in  the  room  is  continued  all  around 
the  four  walls.  One  of  the  walls  is  filled  entirely 
with  French  doors  of  plate  glass,  beneath  the  mirrored 
frieze;  the  other  long  wall  has  the  broad,  central  panel 
cut  into  two  doors  of  plate  glass,  and  stone  benches 
placed  against  the  two  trellised  panels  flanking  the 
doors.    The  ceiling  is  divided  into  three  great  panels 

278 


THE  ART  OF  TRELLIAGE 

of  trellis,  and  from  each  of  the  three  panels  a  lantern 
is  suspended. 

In  the  Guinness  house  in  New  York  there  is  a  little 
hallway  wainscoted  in  white  with  a  green  trellis  cover- 
ing the  wall  space  above.  Against  this  simple  trellis 
—it  is  really  a  lattice — a  number  of  plaster  casts  are 
hung.  In  one  corner  an  old  marble  bowl  holds  a 
grapevine,  which  has  been  trained  over  the  walls. 
The  floor  is  of  white  tiles,  with  a  narrow  Greek  border 
of  black  and  white.  This  decoration  of  a  little  hall 
might  be  copied  very  easily. 

The  architects  are  building  nowadays  many  houses 
that  have  a  sun-room,  or  conservatory,  or  breakfast 
room.  The  smallest  cottage  may  have  a  little  break- 
fast room  done  in  green  and  white  lattice,  with  green 
painted  furniture  and  simple  flower  boxes.  I  have  had 
furniture  of  the  most  satisfactory  designs  made  for 
my  trellis  rooms.  Green  painted  wood  with  cane  in- 
sets seems  most  suitable  for  the  small  rooms,  and  the 
marbles  of  the  old  trellised  Temples  d? Amour  may  be 
replaced  by  cement  benches  in  our  modern  trellis  pa- 
villions. 

There  is  so  much  of  modern  furniture  that  is  re- 
freshing in  line  and  color,  and  adapted  to  these  sun- 
rooms.  There  is  a  desk  made  by  Aitchen,  a  notable 
furniture  designer  in  London,  which  I  have  used  in  a 
sun-room.  The  desk  is  painted  white,  and  is  deco- 
rated with  heavy  lines  of  dark  green.  The  drawer 
front  and  the  doors  of  the  little  cupboard  are  filled 

279 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

with  cane.  The  knobs  are  of  green.  This  desk 
would  be  nice  in  a  white  writing-room  in  a  summer 
cottage,  though  it  was  planned  for  a  trellis  room.  It 
could  be  used  as  a  dressing  table,  with  a  bench  or  chair 
of  white,  outlined  in  green,  and  a  good  mirror  in  white 
and  green  frame.  Another  desk  I  have  made  is  called 
a  jardiniere  table,  and  was  designed  for  Mrs.  Ogden 
Armour's  garden  room  at  Lake  Forest.  The  desk, 
or  table,  is  painted  gray,  with  faint  green  decorations. 
At  each  end  of  the  long  top  there  is  a  sunken  zinc-lined 
box  to  hold  growing  plants.  Between  the  flower 
boxes  there  is  the  usual  arrangement  of  the  desk  outfit, 
blotter  pad,  paper  rack,  ink  pots,  and  so  forth.  The 
spaces  beneath  the  flower  boxes  are  filled  with  shelves 
for  books  and  magazines.  This  idea  is  thoroughly 
practicable  for  any  garden  room,  and  is  so  simple  that 
it  could  be  constructed  by  any  man  who  knows  how  to 
use  tools. 

I  had  the  pleasure  recently  of  planning  a  trellis  room 
for  Mrs.  Ormond-Smith's  house  at  Center  Island,  New 
York.  Here  indeed  is  a  garden  room  with  a  proper 
environment.  It  is  as  beautiful  as  a  room  very  well 
can  be  within,  and  its  great  arched  windows  frame 
vistas  of  trees  and  water  which  take  their  place  as  a 
part  of  the  room,  ever  changing  landscapes  that  are 
always  captivating.  This  trellis  room  is  beautifully 
proportioned,  and  large  enough  to  hold  four  long  sofas 
and  many  chairs  and  tables  of  wicker  and  painted 
wood.    The  grouping  of  the  sofas  and  the  long  tables 

280 


THE  ART  OF  TRELLIAGE 


made  to  fit  between  them  is  most  interesting.  These 
tables  are  extremely  narrow  and  just  the  length  of  the 
sofas,  and  are  built  after  the  idea  of  Mrs.  Armour's 
garden  room  desk,  with  flower  boxes  sunk  in  the  ends. 
The  backs  of  two  sofas  are  placed  against  the  long 
sides  of  the  table,  which  holds  a  reading  lamp  and 
books  in  addition  to  its  masses  of  flowers  at  the  ends. 
Two  such  groups  divide  the  room  into  three  smaller 
rooms,  as  you  can  see  by  the  illustration.  Small  ta- 
bles and  chairs  are  pulled  up  to  the  sofas,  making  con- 
versation centers,  or  comfortable  places  for  reading. 

The  trellis  work  covers  the  spaces  between  windows 
and  doors,  and  follows  the  contour  of  the  arches.  The 
ceiling  is  bordered  with  the  trellis,  and  from  a  great 
square  of  it  in  the  center  a  lamp  is  suspended.  The 
wall  panels  are  broken  by  appliques  that  suggest  the 
bounty  of  summer,  flowers  and  leaves  and  vines  in 
wrought  and  painted  iron.  There  are  pedestals  sur- 
mounted by  marbles  against  some  of  the  panels,  and  a 
carved  bracket  supporting  a  magnificent  bust  high  on 
one  of  the  wider  panels.  The  room  is  classic  in  its 
fine  balance  and  its  architectural  formality,  and  mod- 
ern in  its  luxurious  comfort  and  its  refreshing  color. 
Surely  there  could  be  no  pleasanter  room  for  whiling 
away  a  summer  day. 


283 


XIX 


VILLA  TRIANON 

THE  story  of  the  Villa  Trianon  is  a  fairy-tale 
come  true.    It  came  true  because  we  be- 
lieved in  it — many  fairy  stories  are  ready 
and  waiting  to  come  true  if  only  people  will  believe 
in  them  long  enough. 

For  many  years  Elizabeth  Marbury  and  I  had  spent 
our  summers  in  that  charming  French  town,  Ver- 
sailles, before  we  had  any  hope  of  realizing  a  home 
of  our  own  there.  We  loved  the  place,  with  its 
glamour  of  romance  and  history,  and  we  prowled 
around  the  old  gardens  and  explored  the  old  houses, 
and  dreamed  dreams  and  saw  visions. 

One  old  house  that  particularly  interested  us  was  the 
villa  that  had  once  been  the  home  of  the  Due  de 
Nemours,  son  of  Louis  Philippe.  It  was  situated  di- 
rectly on  the  famous  Park  of  Versailles  which  is,  as 
everyone  knows,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  parks  in 
all  the  world.  The  villa  had  not  been  lived  in  since 
the  occupancy  of  de  Nemours.  Before  the  villa  came 
to  de  Nemours  it  had  been  a  part  of  the  royal  prop- 
erty that  was  portioned  out  to  Mesdames  de  France, 
the  disagreeable  daughters  of  Louis  XV.  You  will 
remember  how  disagreeable  they  were  to  Marie  An- 

284 


VILLA  TRIANON 

toinette,  and  what  a  burden  they  made  her  life.  I 
wish  our  house  had  belonged  to  more  romantic  people ; 
Madame  du  Barry  or  Madame  de  Pompadour  would 
have  suited  me  better! 

How  many,  many  times  we  peeped  through  the 
high  iron  railing  at  this  enchanted  domain,  sleep- 
ing like  the  castle  in  the  fairy  tale.  The  garden  was 
overgrown  with  weeds  and  shrubbery,  the  house  was 
shabby  and  sadly  in  need  of  paint.  We  sighed  and 
thought  how  happy  would  be  our  fortune  if  we  might 
some  day  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  the  tangled  gar- 
den and  the  abandoned  villa.  Little  did  we  dream 
that  this  would  one  day  be  our  home. 

We  first  went  to  Versailles  as  casual  summer  visit- 
ors and  our  stay  was  brief.  We  loved  it  so  much  that 
the  next  summer  we  went  again,  this  time  for  the  sea- 
son, and  found  ourselves  members  of  a  happy  pension 
family.  Then  we  decided  to  rent  an  apartment  of 
our  own,  for  the  next  year,  and  soon  we  were  con- 
sidering the  leases  of  houses,  and  finally  we  arrived  at 
the  supreme  audacity  of  negotiating  for  the  purchase 
of  one.  We  had  a  great  friend  in  Versailles,  Victorien 
Sardou,  the  novelist  and  playwright  so  honored  by  the 
people  of  France.  His  wonderful  house  at  Marly  le 
Roi  was  a  constant  joy  to  us,  and  made  us  always 
more  eager  for  a  permanent  home  of  our  own  in  the 
neighborhood.  Sardou  was  as  eager  for  the  finding  of 
our  house  as  we  were,  and  it  was  he  who  finally 
made  it  possible  for  us  to  buy  our  historic  villa.  He 

285 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

did  everything  for  us,  introduced  us  to  his  friends, 
wonderful  and  brilliant  people,  gave  us  liberally  of  his 
charm  and  knowledge,  and  finally  gave  us  the  chance 
to  buy  this  old  house  and  its  two  acres  of  gardens. 

The  negotiations  for  the  house  were  long  and  tedi- 
ous. Our  offer  was  an  insult,  a  joke,  a  ridiculous  af- 
fair to  the  man  who  had  the  selling  of  it !  He  laughed 
at  us,  and  demanded  twice  the  amount  of  our  offer. 
We  were  firm,  outwardly,  and  refused  to  meet  him 
halfway,  but  secretly  we  spent  hours  and  hours  in  the 
old  house,  sitting  patiently  on  folding  camp-stools, 
and  planning  the  remaking  of  the  house  as  happily  as 
children  playing  make-believe. 

I  remember  vividly  the  three  of  us,  Miss  Marbury, 
Sardou,  and  I,  standing  in  the  garden  on  a  very  rainy 
day.  Sardou  was  bounding  up  and  down,  saying: 
"Buy  it,  buy  it!  If  you  don't  buy  it  before  twelve 
o'clock  to-morrow  I  will  buy  it  myself!"  We  were 
standing  there  soaking  wet,  perfectly  oblivious  to  the 
downpour,  wondering  if  we  dared  do  such  an  auda- 
cious thing  as  to  purchase  property  so  far  from  our 
American  anchorage. 

Well,  we  bought  it,  and  at  our  own  price,  practi- 
cally, and  for  eight  years  we  have  been  restoring  the 
house  and  gardens  to  their  Seventeenth  Century 
beauty.  Sardou  was  our  neighbor,  and  his  wonderful 
chateau  at  Marly,  overlooking  the  valley  and  terraces 
of  St.  Germain,  was  a  never-failing  surprise  to  us, 
so  full  was  it  of  beauty  and  charm,  so  flavored  with 

286 


A  FINE  OLD  CONSOL  IN  THE  VILLA  TRIANON 


VILLA  TRIANON 

the  personality  of  its  owner.  Sardou  was  of  great 
help  to  us  when  we  finally  purchased  our  house.  His 
fund  of  information  never  failed  us,  there  seemed  to 
be  no  question  he  could  not  answer.  He  was  quite  the 
most  erudite  man  I  have  ever  known.  He  had  as 
much  to  say  about  the  restoration  of  our  house  as  we. 
He  introduced  us  to  Monsieur  de  Nolhac,  the  conserv- 
ator of  the  Chateau  de  Versailles,  who  gave  us  the 
details  of  our  villa  as  it  had  been  a  century  and  a  half 
ago,  and  helped  us  remake  die  garden  on  the  lines  of 
the  original  one.  He  loaned  us  pictures  and  docu- 
ments, and  we  felt  we  were  living  in  a  modern  version 
of  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  with  the  sleeping  villa  for 
heroine. 

Our  house  had  always  been  called  "Villa  Trianon," 
and  so  we  kept  the  name,  but  it  should  not  be  confused 
with  the.  Grand  Trianon  or  the  Petit  Trianon.  Of 
course  everyone  knows  about  the  Park  at  Versailles, 
but  everyone  forgets,  so  I  shall  review  the  history  of 
the  Park  briefly,  that  you  may  appreciate  our  thrills 
when  we  really  owned  a  bit  of  it. 

Louis  XIV  selected  Versailles  as  the  site  for  the  royal 
palace  when  it  was  a  swampy,  uninteresting  little  farm. 
Louis  XIII  had  built  a  chateau  there  in  1627,  but  had 
done  little  to  beautify  the  flat  acres  surrounding  it. 
Louis  the  Magnificent  lavished  fortunes  on  the  laying 
out  of  his  new  park.  The  Grand  Trianon  was  built 
for  Madame  de  Main  tenon  in  1685,  an<^  fr°m  tn^s 

28Q 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 
time  on,  for  a  full  century,  the  Park  of  Versailles  was 
the  most  famous  royal  residence  in  the  world. 

The  Petit  Trianon  was  built  by  Louis  XV  for  Ma- 
dame du  Barry.  Later,  during  the  reign  of  Louis 
XVI,  Marie  Antoinette,  who  was  then  Queen,  tiring 
of  court  etiquette  and  scorning  the  stately  rooms  of 
Versailles,  persuaded  her  husband  to  make  over  to  her 
the  Petit  Trianon.  Here  she  built  a  number  of  little 
rustic  cottages,  where  she  and  the  ladies  of  her  court, 
dressed  in  calicoes,  played  at  being  milkmaids.  They 
had  a  little  cottage  called  the  "Laiterie,"  where  the 
white  cows  with  their  gilded  horns  were  brought  in  to 
be  milked.  Here,  too,  little  plays  were  presented  in 
a  tiny  theater  where  only  the  members  of  the  court 
were  admitted.  The  Queen  and  her  brother,  Comte 
de  Provence,  were  always  the  chief  actors. 

Our  villa  adjoins  the  Park  proper.  In  our  deeds 
to  the  two  acres  there  is  a  clause  which  reserves  a 
right-of-way  for  the  King!  The  deed  is  worded  like 
the  old  lease  that  dates  back  to  1750,  and  so  one  day 
we  may  have  to  give  a  King  a  right-of-way  through 
our  garden,  if  France  becomes  a  monarchy  again. 
Anyone  who  knows  French  people  at  all  knows  how 
dearly  they  cherish  the  dream  of  a  monarchy. 

One  of  the  small  houses  we  found  on  our  small  es- 
tate had  once  been  a  part  of  the  hameau  of  Marie  An- 
toinette. We  have  had  this  little  house  rebuilt  and 
connected  with  the  villa,  and  now  use  it  as  a  guest 

2QO 


VILLA  TRIANON 

house.  It  is  very  charming,  with  its  walls  covered 
with  lattices  and  ivy. 

Villa  Trianon,  like  most  French  houses,  is  built  di- 
rectly on  the  street,  leaving  all  the  space  possible  for 
the  garden.  The  facade  of  the  villa  is  very  simple, 
it  reminds  you  of  the  square  houses  of  the  American 
Colonial  period,  except  that  there  is  no  "front  porch," 
as  is  inevitable  with  us  in  America.  The  entrance 
gate  and  the  stone  wall  that  surround  the  place  give 
an  interest  that  our  detached  and  hastily  built  Ameri- 
can houses  lack.  The  wall  is  really  a  continuation  of 
the  facade  of  the  villa,  and  is  surmounted  by  a  black 
iron  railing.  Vines  and  flowers  that  have  flourished 
and  died  and  flourished  again  for  over  a  century  climb 
over  the  wall  and  through  the  graceful  railing,  and 
give  our  home  an  air  of  permanence  that  is  very  satis- 
fying. After  all,  that  is  the  secret  of  Europe's  fasci- 
nation for  us  Americans — the  ever-present  suggestion 
of  permanence.  We  feel  that  houses  and  gardens 
were  planned  and  built  for  centuries,  not  for  the  pass- 
ing pleasure  of  one  brief  lifetime.  We  people  them 
with  ghosts  that  please  us,  and  make  histories  for  them 
that  are  always  romantic  and  full  of  happiness.  The 
survival  of  an  old  house  and  its  garden  through  cen- 
turies of  use  and  misuse  is  always  an  impressive  and 
dramatic  discovery  to  us :  it  gives  us  courage  to  add  our 
little  bit  to  the  ultimate  beauty  and  history,  it  gives 
us  excuse  to  dream  of  the  fortunate  people  who  will 
follow  us  in  other  centuries,  and  who  will,  in  turn, 

293 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

bless  us  for  our  part  in  the  remaking  of  one  old  house 
and  garden. 

There  was  much  to  do!  We  hardly  knew  where  to 
begin,  the  house  was  in  such  wretched  condition.  The 
roof  was  falling  in,  and  the  debris  of  years  was  piled 
high  inside,  but  the  walls  and  the  floors  were  still  very 
beautiful  and  as  sound  as  ever,  structurally.  We  had 
the  roof  restored,  the  debris  removed,  and  the  under- 
brush weeded  out  of  the  garden,  and  then  we  were 
ready  to  begin  the  real  business  of  restoration. 

The  house  is  very  simply  planned.  There  is  a 
broad  hall  that  runs  straight  through  it,  with  dining- 
room  and  servants'  hall  on  the  right,  and  four  connect- 
ing salons  on  the  left.  These  salons  are  charming 
rooms,  with  beautiful  panelings  and  over-doors,  and 
great  arches  framed  in  delicate  carvings.  First  comes 
the  writing-room,  then  the  library,  then  the  large  and 
small  salons.  The  rooms  opening  on  the  back  of  the 
house  have  long  French  windows  that  open  directly 
upon  the  terrace,  where  we  have  most  of  our  meals. 
The  note  of  the  interior  of  the  house  is  blue,  and  there 
are  masses  of  blue  flowers  in  the  garden.  The  interior 
woodwork  is  cream,  pointed  with  blue,  and  there  are 
blues  innumerable  in  the  rugs  and  curtains  and  objets 
d'art.  There  must  be  a  hundred  different  shades  of 
blue  on  this  living-floor,  I  think.  We  have  tried  to 
restore  the  rooms  to  a  Louis  XV  scheme  of  decoration. 
The  tables  and  cabinets  are  of  the  fine  polished 
woods  of  the  period.    Some  of  the  chairs  are  roomy 

294 


VILLA  TRIANON 

affairs  of  carved  and  painted  wooden  frames  and  bro- 
cade coverings,  but  others  are  modern  easychairs  cov- 
ered in  new  linens  of  old  designs,  linens  that  were  de- 
signed for  just  such  interiors  when  Oberkampf  first 
began  his  designing  at  Jouy.  The  mirrors  and  light- 
ing-fixtures are,  of  course,  designed  to  harmonize  with 
the  carvings  of  the  woodwork.  Monsieur  de  Nolhac 
and  Sardou  were  most  helpful  to  us  when  such  archi- 
tectural problems  had  to  be  solved. 

We  have  not  used  the  extravagant  lace  curtains 
that  seem  to  go  with  brocades  and  carvings,  because 
we  are  modern  enough  not  to  believe  in  lace  curtains. 
And  we  find  that  the  thin  white  muslin  ones  give  our 
brocades  and  tapestries  a  chance  to  assert  their  deco- 
rative importance.  Somehow,  lace  curtains  give  a 
room  such  a  dressed-up-for-company  air  that  they 
quite  spoil  the  effect  of  beautiful  fabrics.  We  have  a 
few  fine  old  Savonyerie  carpets  that  are  very  much  at 
home  in  this  house,  and  so  many  interesting  Eighteenth 
Century  prints  we  hardly  know  how  to  use  them. 

Our  bedrooms  are  very  simple,  with  their  white 
panelings  and  chintz  hangings.  We  have  furnished 
them  with  graceful  and  feminine  things,  delicately 
carved  mirror  frames  and  inlaid  tables,  painted  beds, 
and  chests  of  drawers  of  rosewood  or  satinwood.  We 
feel  that  the  ghosts  of  the  fair  ladies  who  live  in  the 
Park  would  adore  the  bedrooms  and  rejoice  in  the 
strange  magic  of  electric  lights.  If  the  ghosts  should 
be  confronted  with  the  electric  lights  their  surprise 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

would  not  be  greater  than  was  the  consternation  of  our 
builders  when  we  demanded  five  bathrooms.  They 
were  astounded,  and  assured  us  it  was  not  necessary, 
it  was  not  possible.  Indeed,  it  seemed  that  it  was 
hardly  legal  to  give  one  small  French  house  five  Amer- 
ican bathrooms.  We  fought  the  matter  out,  and  got 
them,  however. 

We  determined  to  make  the  house  seem  a  part  of 
the  garden,  and  so  we  built  a  broad  terrace  across  the 
rear  of  the  villa.  You  step  directly  from  the  long 
windows  of  the  salon  and  dining-room  upon  the  ter- 
race, and  before  you  is  spread  out  our  little  garden, 
and  back  of  that,  through  an  opening  in  the  trees,  a 
view  of  the  Chateau,  our  never-failing  source  of  inspi- 
ration. 

The  terrace  is  built  of  tiles  on  a  cement  foundation. 
Vines  are  trained  over  square  column-like  frames  of 
wire,  erected  at  regular  intervals.  Between  the  edge 
of  the  terrace  and  the  smooth  green  lawn  there  is  a  mass 
of  blue  flowers.  We  have  a  number  of  willow  chairs 
and  old  stone  tables  here,  and  you  can  appreciate  the 
joy  of  having  breakfast  and  tea  on  the  terrace  with 
the  birds  singing  in  the  boughs  of  the  trees. 

I  have  written  at  length  in  the  other  chapters  of  my 
ideas  of  house-furnishing,  and  in  this  one  I  want  to 
give  you  my  ideas  of  garden  guilding.  True,  we  had 
the  old  garden  plan  to  work  from,  and  trees  two  hun- 
dred years  old,  and  old  vine-covered  walls.  Who 
could  n't  accomplish  a  perfect  garden  with  such  es- 

2q6 


VILLA  TRIANON 

sentials,  people  said!  Well,  it  wasn't  so  easy  as  it 
seems.  You  can  select  furnishings  for  a  room  with 
fair  success,  because  you  can  see  and  feel  textures,  and 
colors,  and  the  lines  of  the  furniture  and  curtains. 
But  gardens  are  different — you  cannot  make  grass  and 
flowers  grow  just  so  on  short  notice!  You  plant  and 
dig  and  plant  again,  before  things  grow  as  you  have 
visualized  them. 

There  was  a  double  ring  of  trees  in  one  corner  of  our 
domain,  enclosing  the  salle  de  verdure,  or  outdoor 
drawing-room.  In  the  center  of  this  enchanted  circle 
there  was  a  statue  by  Clodion,  a  joyous  nymph,  hold- 
ing a  baby  faun  in  her  arms.  There  were  several  old 
stone  benches  under  the  trees  that  must  have  known 
the  secrets  of  the  famous  ladies  of  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury courts.  The  salle  de  verdure  looked  just  as  it  did 
when  the  little  daughters  of  Louis  XV  came  here  to 
have  their  afternoon  cakes  and  tea,  so  we  did  not  try 
to  change  this  bit  of  our  garden. 

My  idea  of  making  over  the  place  was  to  leave 
the  part  of  the  garden  against  the  stone  walls  in  the 
rear  in  its  tangled,  woodsy  state,  and  to  build  against 
it  a  trellis  that  would  be  in  line  with  the  terrace.  Be- 
tween the  trellis  and  the  terrace  there  was  to  be  a 
smooth  expanse  of  greensward,  bordered  with  flowers. 
It  seemed  very  simple,  but  I  hereby  confess  that  I 
built  and  tore  down  the  trellis  three  times  before  it 
pleased  me!  I  had  to  make  it  worthy  of  the  statue 
by  Pradier  that  was  given  us  by  Sardou,  and  finally 

297 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

it  was  done  to  please  me.  Painted  a  soft  green,  with 
ivy  growing  over  it,  and  a  fountain  flanked  by  white 
marbles  outlined  against  it,  this  trellis  represents  (to 
me,  at  least)  my  best  work. 

The  tapis  vert  occupies  the  greater  part  of  the  gar- 
den, and  it  is  bordered  by  gravel  walks  bordered  in 
turn  with  white  flowerbeds.  Between  the  walks  and 
the  walls  there  are  the  groups  of  trees,  the  statues  with 
green  spaces  about  them,  the  masses  of  evergreen  trees, 
and  finally  the  great  trees  that  follow  the  lines  of  the 
wall.  Indeed,  the  tapis  vert  is  like  the  arena  of  an 
ample  theater,  with  the  ascending  flowers  and  shrubs 
and  trees  representing  the  ascending  tiers  of  seats. 
One  feels  that  all  the  trees  and  flowers  look  down 
upon  the  central  stretch  of  greensward,  and  perhaps 
there  is  a  fairy  ring  here  where  plays  take  place  by 
night.  Nothing  is  impossible  in  this  garden.  Cer- 
tainly the  fairies  play  in  the  enchanted  ring  of  the 
trees  of  the  salle  de  verdure.  We  are  convinced  of 
that. 

So  formal  is  the  tapis  vert,  with  its  blossoming  bor- 
ders of  larkspur  and  daisies  and  its  tall  standard  roses, 
you  are  surprised  to  find  that  that  part  of  the  garden 
outside  this  prim  rectangle  has  mysteries.  There  are 
winding  paths  that  terminate  in  marble  seats.  There 
is  the  pavilion,  a  little  house  built  for  outdoor  music- 
ales,  with  electric  connections  that  make  breakfast  and 
tea  possible  here.  There  is  the  guest  house,  and  the 
motor  house — quite  as  interesting  as  any  other  part 

298 


VILLA  TRIANON 

of  the  garden.  And  everywhere  there  are  blue  and 
white  and  rose-colored  flowers,  planted  in  great  masses 
against  the  black-green  evergreens. 

We  leave  America  early  in  June,  tired  out  with  the 
breathless  business  of  living,  and  find  ourselves  in  our 
old-world  house  and  garden.  We  fall  asleep  to  the 
accompaniment  of  the  tiny  piping  of  the  little  people 
in  our  garden.  We  awake  to  the  matins  of  the  birds. 
We  breakfast  on  the  stone  terrace,  with  boughs  of  trees 
and  clouds  for  our  roof,  and  as  we  look  out  over  the 
masses  of  blue  flowers  and  the  smooth  green  tapis  vert, 
over  the  arched  trelliage  with  its  fountains  and  its 
marbles,  the  great  trees  back  of  our  domain  frame  the 
supremely  beautiful  towers  of  the  Chateau  le  Magnif- 
icent, and  we  are  far  happier  than  anyone  deserves 
to  be  in  this  wicked  world ! 


2QQ 


XX 


NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

A   LITTLE  TALK  ON  CLOCKS. 

THE  selection  of  proper  clocks  for  one's  house 
is  always  long-drawn-out,  a  pursuit  of  real 
pleasure.  Clocks  are  such  necessary  things 
the  thoughtless  woman  is  apt  to  compromise,  when  she 
does  n't  find  exactly  the  right  one.  How  much  wiser 
and  happier  she  would  be  if  she  decided  to  depend 
upon  an  ordinary  alarm  clock  until  the  proper  clock 
was  discovered!  If  she  made  a  hobby  of  her  quest 
for  clocks  she  would  find  much  amusement,  many 
other  valuable  objects  by-the-way,  and  finally  exactly 
the  right  clocks  for  her  rooms. 

Everyone  knows  the  merits  and  demerits  of  the 
hundreds  of  clocks  of  commerce,  -md  it  is  n't  for  me  to 
go  into  the  subject  of  grandfather-clocks,  bracket 
clocks,  and  banjo  clocks,  when  there  are  so  many  ex- 
cellent books  on  the  subject.  I  plead  for  the  graceful 
clocks  of  old  France,  the  objets  d'art  so  lovingly  de- 
signed by  the  master  sculptors  of  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury. I  plead  particularly  for  the  wall  clocks  that 
are  so  conspicuous  in  all  good  French  houses,  and  so 
unusual  in  our  own  country. 

Just  as  surely  as  our  fine  old  English  and  American 

300 


NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

clocks  have  their  proper  niches,  so  the  French  clocks 
belong  inevitably  in  certain  rooms.  You  may  never 
find  just  the  proper  clock  for  this  room,  but  that  is 
your  fault.  There  are  hundreds  of  lovely  old  models 
available.  Why  shouldn't  some  manufacturer  have 
them  reproduced4? 

I  feel  that  if  women  generally  knew  how  very  deco- 
rative and  distinguished  a  good  wall  clock  may  be, 
the  demand  would  soon  create  a  supply  of  these  beau- 
tiful objects.  It  would  be  quite  simple  for  the  manu- 
facturers to  make  them  from  the  old  models.  The 
late  Mr.  Pierpont  Morgan  gave  to  the  Metropolitan 
Museum  the  magnificent  Hoentschel  collection  of  ob~ 
jets  d'art,  hoping  to  stimulate  the  interest  of  American 
designers  and  artisans  in  the  fine  models  of  the  Seven- 
teenth and  Eighteenth  Centuries.  There  are  some 
very  fine  examples  of  wall  clocks  in  this  collection 
which  might  be  copied  in  carved  wood  by  the  students 
of  manual  training  schools,  if  the  manufacturers  re- 
fuse to  be  interested. 

Wall  clocks  first  came  into  France  in  the  early  part 
of  the  Seventeenth  Century,  and  are  a  part  of  the  fur- 
nishing of  all  the  fine  old  French  houses.  A  number 
of  the  most  interesting  clocks  I  have  picked  up  were 
the  wooden  models  which  served  for  the  fine  bronze 
clocks  of  the  Eighteenth  Century.  The  master  de- 
signer first  worked  out  his  idea  in  wood  before  making 
the  clock  in  bronze,  and  the  wooden  models  were  sold 
for  a  song.    I  have  one  of  these  clocks  in  my  dining- 

303 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

room.  It  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  wall  decoration  as 
the  lights  or  the  mirrors. 

The  wall  clocks  I  like  best  are  fixed  directly  on  the 
wall,  the  dial  glass  opening  so  that  the  clock  may  be 
wound  with  a  key.  You  will  notice  such  a  clock  in 
the  photograph  of  one  of  my  dining-rooms.  This  fine 
old  clock  is  given  the  place  of  honor  in  the  main  panel 
of  the  wall,  above  the  console  table.  I  often  use  such 
a  clock  in  a  dining-room,  just  as  I  use  the  fine  old 
French  mantel  clocks  in  my  drawing-rooms.  You  will 
observe  a  very  quaint  example  of  the  Empire  period 
in  the  illustration  of  my  drawing-room  mantel.  This 
clock  is  happily  placed,  for  the  marble  of  the  mantel, 
the  lighting-fixtures  near  by  and  the  fine  little  bronze 
busts  are  all  in  key  with  the  exquisite  workmanship 
of  the  clock.  In  another  room  in  my  house,  a  bed- 
room, there  is  a  beautiful  little  French  clock  that  is 
the  only  object  allowed  on  the  mantel  shelf.  The 
beautiful  carving  of  the  mirror  frame  back  of  it  seems 
a  part  of  the  clock,  a  deliberate  background  for  it. 
This  is  one  of  the  many  wall  clocks  which  were  known 
as  bracket  clocks,  the  bracket  being  as  carefully  de- 
signed and  carved  as  the  clock  itself.  Most  of  the 
clocks  we  see  nowadays  grew  out  of  the  old  bracket 
models. 

The  American  clockmakers  of  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury made  many  of  those  jolly  little  wall  clocks  called 
Wag-on-the-Wall.  These  clocks  may  be  still  picked 
up  in  out-of-the-way  towns.    In  construction  they  are 

3°4 


NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

very  much  like  the  old  cuckoo  clock  which  has  come  to 
us  from  Switzerland,  and  the  tile  clock  which  comes 
from  Holland.  These  clocks  with  long,  exposed 
weights  and  pendulum,  have  not  the  dignity  of  the 
French  wall  clocks,  which  were  as  complete  in  them- 
selves as  fine  bus  relief s>  and  of  even  greater  decorative 
importance. 

Every  room  in  my  house  has  its  clock,  and  to  me 
these  magic  little  instruments  have  an  almost  human 
interest.  They  seem  always  friendly  to  me,  whether 
they  mark  off  the  hours  that  weigh  so  heavily  and  seem 
never-ending,  or  the  happy  hours  that  go  all  too 
quickly.  I  love  clocks  so  much  myself  that  it  always 
astonishes  me  to  go  into  a  room  where  there  is  none, 
or,  if  there  is,  it  is  one  of  those  abortive,  exaggerated, 
gilded  clocks  that  are  falsely  labeled  "French"  and 
sold  at  a  great  price  in  the  shops.  Somehow,  one 
never  expects  a  clock  of  this  kind  to  keep  time — it  is 
bought  as  an  ornament  and  if  it  runs  at  all  it  wheezes, 
or  gasps,  or  makes  a  dreadful  noise,  and  invariably 
stops  at  half-past  three. 

I  am  such  a  crank  about  good  clocks  that  I  take  my 
own  with  me,  even  on  a  railway  train.  I  think  I  have 
the  smallest  clock  in  the  world  which  strikes  the  hours. 
There  are  many  tiny  clocks  made  which  strike  if 
one  touches  a  spring,  but  my  clock  always  strikes  of 
itself.  Cartier,  who  designed  and  made  this  extraor- 
dinary timepiece,  assures  me  that  he  has  never  seen  so 
small  a  clock  which  strikes.    It  is  very  pleasant  to 

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THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

have  this  little  clock  with  its  friendly  chime  with  me 
when  I  am  in  some  desolate  hotel  or  some  strange 
house. 

There  are  traveling  clocks  in  small  leather  cases 
which  can  be  bought  very  cheaply  indeed  now,  and 
one  of  these  clocks  should  be  a  part  of  everyone's 
traveling  equipment.  The  humble  nickeled  watch 
with  a  leather  case  is  infinitely  better  than  the  preten- 
tious clocks,  monstrosities  of  marble  and  brass  and 
bad  taste. 

A  CORNER  FOR  WRITING. 

One  of  my  greatest  pleasures,  when  I  am  planning 
the  furnishing  of  a  house,  is  the  selection  and  equip- 
ment of  the  necessary  writing-tables.  Every  room  in 
every  house  has  its  own  suggestion  for  an  original 
treatment,  and  I  enjoy  working  out  a  plan  for  a  writ- 
ing-corner that  will  offer  maximum  of  convenience, 
and  beauty  and  charm,  for  in  these  busy  days  we  need 
all  these  qualities  for  the  inspiration  of  a  pleasant 
note.  You  see,  I  believe  in  proper  writing-tables,  just 
as  I  believe  in  proper  chairs.  I  have  so  many  desks 
in  my  own  house  that  are  in  constant  use,  perhaps  I 
can  give  you  my  theory  best  by  recording  my  actual 
practice  of  it. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  necessity  of  a  desk  in  the  hall- 
way, and  indeed,  I  have  said  much  of  desks  in  other 
rooms,  but  I  have  still  to  emphasize  my  belief  in  the 
importance  of  the  equipment  of  desks. 

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NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

Of  course,  one  needs  a  desk  in  one's  own  room. 
Here  there  is  infinite  latitude,  for  there  are  dozens  of 
delightful  possibilities.  I  always  place  my  desks  near 
the  windows.  If  the  wall  space  is  filled,  I  place  an 
oblong  table  at  right  angles  to  a  window,  and  there 
you  are.  In  my  own  private  sitting-room  I  have  a 
long  desk  so  placed,  in  my  own  house.  In  a  guest- 
room I  furnished  recently,  I  used  a  common  oblong 
table  of  no  value,  painting  the  legs  a  soft  green  and 
covering  it  with  a  piece  of  sage-green  damask.  This 
is  one  of  the  nicest  writing-tables  I  know,  and  it  could 
be  copied  for  a  song.  The  equipment  of  it  is  what 
counts.  I  used  two  lamps,  dull  green  jars  with  mauve 
silk  shades,  a  dark  green  leather  rack  for  paper  and  en- 
velopes, and  a  great  blotter  pad  that  will  save  the 
damask  from  ink-spots.  The  small  things  are  of 
green  pottery  and  crystal.  In  a  young  girl's  bedroom 
I  used  a  sweet  little  desk  of  painted  wood,  a  desk  that 
has  the  naive  charm  of  innocence.  I  do  hope  it  in- 
spires the  proper  love-letters. 

I  always  make  provision  for  writing  in  dressing- 
rooms— a  sliding  shelf  in  the  dressing-table,  and  a 
shallow  drawer  for  pencils  and  paper — and  I  have  ad- 
equate writing  facilities  in  the  servants'  quarters,  so 
that  there  may  be  no  excuse  for  forgetting  orders  or 
messages.  This  seems  to  me  absolutely  necessary  in 
our  modern  domestic  routine :  it  is  part  of  the  business 
principle  we  borrow  from  the  efficient  office  routine 
of  our  men  folk.    The  dining-room  and  the  bathrooms 

307 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

are  the  only  places  where  the  writing-table,  in  one 
form  or  another,  is  n't  required. 

I  like  the  long  flat  tables  or  small  desks  much  better 
than  the  huge  roll-top  affairs  or  the  heavy  desks  built 
after  the  fashion  of  the  old  armoire.  If  the  room  is 
large  enough,  a  secretary  after  an  Eighteenth  Century 
model  will  be  a  beautiful  and  distinguished  piece  of 
furniture.  I  have  such  a  secretary  in  my  own  sitting- 
room,  a  chest  of  drawers  surmounted  by  a  cabinet  of 
shelves  with  glass  doors,  but  I  do  not  use  it  as  a  desk. 
I  use  the  shelves  for  my  old  china  and  porcelains,  and 
the  drawers  for  pamphlets  and  the  thousand  and  one 
things  that  are  too  flimsily  bound  for  bookshelves. 
Of  course,  if  one  has  a  large  correspondence  and  uses 
one's  home  as  an  office,  it  is  better  to  have  a  large  desk 
with  a  top  which  closes.  I  prefer  tables,  and  I  have 
them  made  big  enough  to  hold  all  my  papers,  big 
enough  to  spread  out  on. 

There  are  dozens  of  enchanting  small  desks  that  are 
exactly  right  for  guest-rooms,  the  extremely  feminine 
desks  that  come  from  old  France.  One  of  the  most 
fascinating  ones  is  copied  from  a  bureau  de  toilette  that 
belonged  to  Marie  Antoinette.  In  those  days  the 
writing  of  letters  and  the  making  of  a  toilet  went  to- 
gether. This  old  desk  has  a  drawer  filled  with  com- 
partments for  toilet  things,  powders  and  perfumes 
and  patches,  and  above  this  vanity-drawer  there  is  the 
usual  shelf  for  writing,  and  compartments  for  paper 
and  letters.    The  desk  itself  suggests  brocade  flounces 

308 


NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

and  powdered  hair,  so  exquisitely  is  it  constructed  of 
tulipwood  and  inlaid  with  other  woods  of  many  col- 
ors. 

Then  there  are  the  small  desks  made  by  modern  fur- 
niture-makers, just  large  enough  to  hold  a  blotting- 
pad,  a  paper  rack,  and  a  pair  of  candlesticks.  There 
is  always  a  shallow  drawer  for  writing  materials. 
Such  a  desk  may  be  decorated  to  match  the  chintzes 
of  any  small  bedroom. 

If  it  is  n't  possible  for  you  to  have  a  desk  in  each 
guest-room,  there  should  be  a  little  writing-room  some- 
where apart  from  the  family  living-room.  If  you 
live  in  one  of  those  old-fashioned  houses  intersected 
by  great  halls  with  much  wasted  space  on  the  upper 
floors,  you  may  make  a  little  writing-room  of  one  of 
the  hall-ends,  and  screen  it  from  the  rest  of  the  hall 
with  a  high  standing  screen.  If  you  have  a  house  of 
the  other  extreme  type,  a  city  house  with  little  hall 
bedrooms,  use  one  of  these  little  rooms  for  a  writing- 
room.  You  will  require  a  desk  well  stocked  with  sta- 
tionery, and  all  the  things  the  writer  will  need;  a 
shelf  of  address  books  and  reference  books — with  a 
dictionary,  of  course;  many  pens  and  pencils  and  fresh 
blotters,  and  so  forth.  Of  course,  you  may  have  ever 
so  many  more  things,  but  it  is  n't  necessary.  Better 
a  quiet  corner  with  one  chair  and  a  desk,  than  the  elab- 
orate library  with  its  superb  fittings  where  people  come 
and  go. 

Given  the  proper  desk,  the  furnishing  of  it  is  most 

309 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 
important.  The  blotting-pad  should  be  heavy  enough 
to  keep  its  place,  and  the  blotting-paper  should  be 
constantly  renewed.  I  know  of  nothing  more  offen- 
sive than  dusty,  ink-splotched  blotting-paper.  There 
are  very  good  sets  to  be  had,  now,  made  of  brass, 
bronze,  carved  wood,  porcelain,  silver  or  crystal,  and 
there  are  leather  boxes  for  holding  stationery  and 
leather  portfolios  to  be  had  in  all  colors.  I  always 
add  to  these  furnishings  a  good  pair  of  scissors,  sta- 
tionery marked  with  the  house  address  or  the  mono- 
gram of  the  person  to  whom  the  desk  especially  be- 
longs, an  almanac,  and  a  pincushion!  My  pin- 
cushions are  as  much  a  part  of  the  equipment  of  a 
desk  as  the  writing  things,  and  they  are  n't  frilly,  ugly 
things.  They  are  covered  with  brocade  or  damask  or 
some  stuff  used  elsewhere  in  the  room  and  I  assure 
you  they  are  most  useful.  I  find  that  pins  are  almost 
as  necessary  as  pens  in  my  correspondence;  they  are 
much  more  expedient  than  pigeon-holes. 

In  country  houses  I  think  it  shows  forethought  and 
adds  greatly  to  the  comfort  of  the  guests  to  have  a 
small  framed  card  showing  the  arrival  and  departure 
of  trains  and  of  mails,  especially  if  the  house  is  a 
great  distance  from  the  railway-station.  This  saves 
much  inquiry  and  time.  In  the  paper  rack  there 
should  be  not  only  stamped  paper  bearing  the  address 
of  the  house,  telephone  number,  and  so  forth,  but  also 
telegraph  blanks,  post  cards,  stamps,  and  so  forth. 
Very  often  people  who  have  beautiful  places  have 

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NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

post  cards  made  showing  various  views  of  the  house 
and  garden. 

Test  the  efficiency  of  your  writing-tables  occasion- 
ally by  using  them  yourself.  This  is  the  only  way 
to  be  sure  of  the  success  of  anything  in  your  house — 
try  it  yourself. 

STOOLS  AND  BENCHES. 

I  often  wonder,  when  I  grope  my  way  through 
drawing-rooms  crowded  and  jammed  with  chairs  and 
sofas,  why  more  women  do  not  realize  the  advantages 
of  stools  and  benches.  A  well-made  stool  is  doubly 
useful:  it  may  be  used  to  sit  upon  or  it  may  be  used 
to  hold  a  tray,  or  whatever  you  please.  It  is  really 
preferable  to  a  small  table  because  it  is  not  always 
full  of  a  nondescript  collection  of  ornaments,  which 
seems  to  be  the  fate  of  all  small  tables.  It  has  also 
the  advantage  of  being  low  enough  to  push  under  a 
large  table,  when  need  be,  and  it  occupies  much  less 
space  than  a  chair  apparently  (not  actually)  because 
it  has  no  back.  I  have  stools,  or  benches,  or  both  in 
all  my  rooms,  because  I  find  them  convenient  and 
easily  moved  about,  but  I  have  noticed  an  amusing 
thing:  Whenever  a  fat  man  comes  to  see  me,  he 
always  sits  on  the  smallest  stool  in  the  room.  I  have 
many  fat  friends,  and  many  stools,  but  invariably  the 
fattest  man  gravitates  to  the  smallest  stool. 

The  stools  I  like  best  for  the  drawing-room  are  the 
fine  old  ones,  covered  with  needlework  or  brocade,  but 

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THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

there  are  many  simpler  ones  of  plain  wood  with  cane 
insets  that  are  very  good  for  other  rooms.  Then  there 
are  the  long  banquettes^  or  benches,  which  are  so  nice 
in  drawing-rooms  and  hallways  and  nicest  of  all  in 
a  ballroom.  Indeed,  a  ballroom  needs  no  other 
movable  furniture ;  given  plenty  of  these  long  benches. 
They  may  be  of  the  very  simplest  description,  but 
when  used  in  a  fine  room  should  be  covered  with  a 
good  damask  or  velvet  or  some  rich  fabric. 

I  have  a  fine  Eighteenth  Century  banquette  in  my 
drawing-room,  the  frame  being  carved  and  gilded  and 
the  seat  covered  with  Venetian  red  velvet.  You  will 
find  these  gilded  stools  all  over  England.  There  are 
a  number  at  Hampton  Court  Palace.  At  Hardwick 
there  are  both  long  and  short  stools,  carved  with  the 
dolphin's  scroll  and  covered  with  elaborate  stuffs. 
The  older  the  English  house,  the  more  stools  are  in 
evidence.  In  the  early  Sixteenth  Century  joint  stools 
were  used  in  every  room.  In  the  bedrooms  they 
served  the  purposes  of  small  tables  and  chairs  as  well. 
There  are  ever  so  many  fine  old  walnut  stools  and 
the  lower  stools  used  for  bed-steps  to  be  bought  in 
London  shops  that  make  a  specialty  of  old  English 
furniture,  and  reproductions  of  them  may  be  bought 
in  the  better  American  shops.  I  often  wonder  why 
we  do  not  see  more  bedside  stools.  They  are  so  con- 
venient, even  though  the  bed  be  only  moderately  high 
from  the  floor.  Many  of  mine  are  only  six  inches 
high,  about  the  height  of  a  fat  floor  cushion. 

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NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

Which  reminds  me:  the  floor  cushion,  made  of  the 
same  velvet  made  for  carpeting,  is  a  modern  luxury 
we  can't  afford  to  ignore.  Lately  I  have  seen  such 
beautiful  ones,  about  three  feet  long  and  one  foot 
wide,  covered  with  tapestry,  with  great  gold  tassels 
at  the  corners.  The  possibilities  of  the  floor  cushion 
idea  are  limitless.  They  take  the  place  of  the  usual 
footstool  in  front  of  the  boudoir  easy  chair,  or  beside 
the  day  bed  or  chaise-longue,  or  beside  the  large  bed, 
for  that  matter.  They  are  no  longer  unsanitary, 
because  with  vacuum  cleaners  they  may  be  kept  as 
clean  as  chair  cushions.  They  may  be  made  to  fit  into 
almost  any  room.  I  saw  a  half  dozen  of  them  in  a 
dining-room,  recently,  small  square  hard  ones,  cov- 
ered with  the  gold  colored  velvet  of  the  carpet.  They 
were  not  more  than  four  or  five  inches  thick,  but  that 
is  the  ideal  height  for  an  under-the-table  cushion. 
Try  it. 

PORCELAIN  STOVES. 

When  the  Colony  Club  was  at  last  finished  we  dis- 
covered that  the  furnace  heat  did  not  go  up  to  the 
roof-garden,  and  immediately  we  had  to  find  some 
way  of  heating  this  very  attractive  and  very  necessary 
space.  Even  from  the  beginning  we  were  sadly 
crowded  for  room,  so  popular  was  the  club-house,  and 
the  roof-garden  was  much  needed  for  the  overflow. 
We  conferred  with  architects,  builders  and  plumbers, 
and  found  it  would  be  necessary  to  spend  about  seven 

315 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

thousand  dollars  and  to  close  the  club  for  about  two 
months  in  order  to  carry  the  heating  arrangements  up 
to  the  roof.  This  was  disastrous  for  a  new  club,  al- 
ready heavily  in  arrears  and  running  under  heavy  ex- 
penses. I  worried  and  worried  over  the  situation,  and 
suddenly  one  night  an  idea  came  to  me:  I  remem- 
bered some  great  porcelain  stoves  I  had  seen  in  Ger- 
many. I  felt  that  these  stoves  were  exactly  what  we 
needed,  and  that  we  should  be  rescued  from  an  em- 
barrassing situation  without  much  trouble  or  expense. 
I  was  just  leaving  for  Europe,  so  I  hurried  on  to  the 
manufacturers  of  these  wonderful  stoves  and  found, 
after  much  difficulty,  a  model  that  seemed  practicable, 
and  not  too  huge  in  proportion.  The  model,  unfor- 
tunately, was  white  with  gilded  garlands,  far  too 
French  and  magnificent  for  our  sun-room.  I  per- 
suaded them  to  make  two  of  the  stoves  for  me  in 
green  Majolica,  with  garlands  of  soft- toned  flowers, 
and  finally  we  achieved  just  the  stoves  for  the  room. 

But  my  troubles  were  not  over:  When  the  stoves 
reached  New  York,  we  tried  to  take  them  up  to  the 
roof,  and  found  them  too  large  for  the  stairs.  We 
could  n't  have  them  lifted  up  by  pulleys,  because  the 
glass  walls  of  the  roof  garden  and  the  fretwork  at  the 
top  of  the  roof  made  it  impossible  for  the  men  to  get 
"purchase"  for  their  pulleys.  Finally  we  persuaded 
a  gentleman  who  lived  next  door  to  let  us  take  them 
over  the  roof  of  his  house,  and  the  deed  was  accom- 
plished.   The  stoves  were  equal  to  the  occasion. 

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NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

They  heated  the  roof  garden  perfectly,  and  were  of 
great  decorative  value. 

Encouraged  by  this  success  I  purchased  another 
porcelain  stove,  this  time  a  cream-colored  porcelain 
one,  and  used  it  in  a  hallway  in  an  uptown  house. 
It  was  the  one  thing  needed  to  give  the  hall  great  dis- 
tinction. Since  then  I  have  used  a  number  of  these 
stoves,  and  I  wonder  why  our  American  manufactur- 
ers do  not  make  them.  They  are  admirable  for  heat- 
ing difficult  rooms — outdoor  porches,  and  draughty 
halls,  and  rooms  not  heated  by  furnaces.  The  stoves 
are  becoming  harder  and  harder  to  find,  though  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  purchase  one  last  year  from  the 
Marchioness  of  Anglesey,  who  was  giving  up  her 
home  at  Versailles.  This  stove  was  of  white  Majolica 
with  little  Loves  in  terra  cotta  adorning  it.  The  new 
ones  are  less  attractive,  but  it  would  be  perfectly 
simple  to  have  any  tile  manufacturer  copy  an  old  one, 
given  the  design. 

THE  CHARM  OF  INDOOR  FOUNTAINS. 

Wall  fountains  as  we  know  them  are  introduced 
into  our  modern  houses  for  their  decorative  interest 
and  for  the  joy  they  give  us,  the  joyous  sound  and 
color  of  falling  water.  We  use  them  because  they 
are  beautiful  and  cheerful,  but  originally  they  had  a 
most  definite  purpose.  They  were  built  into  the 
walls  of  the  dining-halls  in  medieval  times,  and  used 
for  washing  the  precious  plate. 

317 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 

If  you  look  into  the  history  of  any  objet  d'art  you 
will  find  that  it  was  first  used  for  a  purpose.  All  the 
superb  masterly  things  that  have  come  to  us  had  log- 
ical beginnings.  It  has  remained  for  the  thoughtless 
designer  of  our  times  to  produce  things  of  no  use  and 
no  meaning.  The  old  designers  decorated  the  small 
objects  of  daily  use  as  faithfully  as  they  decorated  the 
greater  things,  the  wall  spaces  and  ceilings  and  great 
pieces  of  furniture,  and  so  this  little  wall  basin  which 
began  in  such  a  homely  way  soon  became  a  beautiful 
thing. 

Europe  has  countless  small  fountains  built  for  in- 
terior walls  and  for  small  alcoves  and  indoor  conserv- 
atories, but  we  are  just  beginning  to  use  them  in 
America.  American  sculptors  are  doing  such  notable 
work,  however,  that  we  shall  soon  plan  our  indoor 
fountains  as  carefully  as  we  plan  our  fireplaces.  The 
fact  that  our  houses  are  heated  mechanically  has  not 
lessened  our  appreciation  of  an  open  fire,  and  run- 
ning water  brought  indoors  has  the  same  animate 
charm. 

I  am  showing  a  picture  of  the  wall  fountain  in  the 
entrance  hall  of  my  own  New  York  house  in  East 
Fifty-fifth  Street.  I  have  had  this  wall  fountain 
built  as  part  of  the  architectural  detail  of  the  room, 
with  a  background  of  paneled  mirrors.  It  spills  over 
into  a  marble  curbed  pool  where  fat  orange-colored 
goldfish  live.  I  keep  the  fountain  banked  with  flow- 
ers.   You  can  imagine  the  pleasure  of  leaving  the 

318 


NOTES  ON  MANY  THINGS 

dusty  city  streets  and  entering  this  cool,  pleasant  en- 
trance hall. 

Our  modern  use  of  indoor  fountains  is  perfectly 
legitimate:  we  use  them  to  bring  the  atmosphere  of 
outdoors  in.  In  country  houses  we  use  fountains  in 
our  gardens,  but  in  the  city  we  have  no  gardens,  and 
so  we  are  very  wise  to  bring  in  the  outdoor  things 
that  make  our  lives  a  little  more  gay  and  informal. 
The  more  suggestive  of  out-of-doors  the  happier  is  the 
effect  of  the  sun  room.  Occasionally  one  sees  a  rare 
house  where  a  glass  enclosed  garden  opens  from  one 
of  the  living-rooms.  There  is  a  house  in  Nineteenth 
Street  that  has  such  an  enclosed  garden,  built  around 
a  wall  fountain.  The  garden  opens  out  of  the  great 
two-storied  music-room.  Lofty  windows  flank  a 
great  door,  and  fill  the  end  of  the  room  with  a  lu- 
minous composition  of  leaded  glass.  Through  the 
door  you  enter  the  garden,  with  its  tiled  floor,  its  glass 
ceiling,  and  its  low  brick  retaining  walls.  The  wall 
fountain  is  placed  exactly  in  front  of  the  great  door, 
and  beneath  it  there  is  a  little  semi-circular  pool  bor- 
dered with  plants  and  glittering  with  goldfish.  Ever- 
greens are  banked  against  the  brick  walls,  and  flat  re- 
liefs are  hung  just  under  the  glass  ceiling.  The  gar- 
den is  quite  small,  but  takes  its  place  as  an  important 
part  of  the  room.  It  rivals  in  interest  the  massive 
Gothic  fireplace,  with  its  huge  logs  and  feudal  fire 
irons. 

The  better  silversmiths  are  doing  much  to  encour- 

321 


THE  HOUSE  IN  GOOD  TASTE 


age  the  development  of  indoor  fountains.  They  dis- 
play the  delightful  fountains  of  our  young  American 
sculptors,  fountains  that  would  make  any  garden  room 
notable.  There  are  so  many  of  these  small  bronze 
fountains,  with  Pan  piping  his  irresistible  tune  of 
outdoors;  children  playing  with  frogs  or  geese  or  liz- 
ards or  turtles ;  gay  little  figures  prancing  in  enchanted 
rings  of  friendly  beasties.  Why  don't  we  make  use 
of  them? 


THE  END 


322 


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